What shall I
answer?" She looked Peter in the eye with severity. "I shan't refuse,"
she said, "because I shan't even let him speak. If any man dares to
attempt it, I'll tell him frankly I don't care to listen."
"She really means it," sighed Peter internally. "Why is it, that the
best girls don't care to marry?" Peter became very cross, and, what is
worse, looked it.
Nor was Leonore much better, "There," she said, "I knew just how it
would be. He's getting sulky already. He isn't nice any more. The best
thing will be to let him speak, for then he'll go back to New York, and
won't bother me." The corners of her mouth drew away down, and life
became very gray.
So "the best of friends" rode home from the Casino, without so much as
looking at each other, much less speaking. Clearly Peter was right.
There was no good in trying to be friends any longer.
Precedent or habit, however, was too strong to sustain this condition
long. First Leonore had to be helped out of the carriage.
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