colour beside those splendid dark ones, that flash and burn and subjugate and sway my heart with their masterful will as none ever did or could?
We shall be a lovelorn assembly at Silverbridge: the thought of how everybody will be in love with everybody else provokes an unwilling smile from me. George is in love with me, I am in love with Paul, Paul is in love with somebody else: now if she would only come to Silverbridge and fall in love with George, we should be the most amusing partie carrée of lovers that the world ever saw, and our united sighs would form a high wind wherever we went. In time of drought we might go out in a body and water the land, and at all the funerals in the neighbourhood our looks would be far more grief-inspiring than any amount of well-fed, sober-faced mutes. I wonder if I shall always be able to see my misfortunes in a ludicrous light, no matter how painfully I smart under them?
Will Paul expect me to listen to the tale of his lady-love's perfections? I am puzzled to know why he should have told me of her at all, for clearly he has told no one else here. Probably he has favoured me with his notice because he has all along had me in his eye as a nice comfortable sort of person to whom he can maunder on by the hour about his charmer's perfections. I told him when I came here that I would be gooseberry to him; has he taken me at my word, and is going to make a listening one of me? I have always been afraid that he would come under Silvia's influence again, but he has not.
Paul Vasher is neither a weak nor a forgiving man. I like these strong, deep natures: the impulsive, pleasant-mannered, facile folk may be twice as lovable, but they are like sand, and that which they receive quickly is as quickly effaced; while the favour of the proud, reserved man or woman is precious and rare, since it is vouchsafed to but few. I should like to know what
