The sentiment sounding unlikely, Maria Dolores raised doubtful eyes.
They shone into John's; his drank their light; and something violent
happened in his bosom.

"Oh--?" she said.

"Yes," said he, thinking what adorable little hands she had, as they lay
loosely clasped in her lap, thinking how warm they would be, and
fragrant; thinking too what fun it was, this playing with fire, how
perilous and exciting, and how egotistical he must seem to her, and how
nothing on earth should prevent him from continuing the play. "Yes," he
said, "it's a circumstance to be thankful for, because, like Winthorpe
himself, though for different reasons, I'm unable to contemplate
marriage." His voice sank sorrowfully, and he made a sorrowful movement.

"Oh--?" said Maria Dolores, her sympathy becoming more explicit.

"Winthorpe's too beastly puritanical--and I'm too beastly poor," said
he.

"Oh," she murmured. Her eyes softened; her sympathy deepened to
compassion.

"She must certainly put me down as the most complacent egotist in two
hemispheres, so to regale her with unsolicited information about
myself," thought John; "but surely it would need six hemispheres to
produce another pair of eyes as beautiful as hers."--"Yes," he said, "I
should be 'looking up' if I asked even a beggar-maid to marry me."

Maria Dolores' beautiful eyes became thoughtful as well as