be cool. Don't say any thing which you will regret to remember. Don't
mistake any thing that I have done as an indication of--"

"Oh, Miss Newt," interrupted Zephyr, "how can you say such things? Hear
me but one word. I assure you that I most deeply, tenderly, truly--"

"Mr. Wetherley," said Fanny, putting down the book and speaking very
firmly, "I really can not sit still and hear you proceed. You are
laboring under a great misapprehension. You must be aware that I have
never in the slightest way given you occasion to believe that I--"

"I must speak!" burst in the impetuous Zephyr. "My feelings forbid
silence! Great Heavens! Miss Newt, you really have no idea--I am sure
you have no idea--you can not have any idea of the ardor with which for
a long, long time I have--"

"Mr. Wetherley," said Fanny Newt, darker and cooler than ever, "it is
useless to prolong this conversation. I can not consent to hear you
declare that--"

"But you haven't heard me declare it," replied Zephyr, vehemently. "It's
the very thing I am trying to do, and you won't let me. You keep cutting
me off just as I am saying how I--"

"You need go no further, Sir," said Miss Newt, coldly, rising and
standing by the table; while Zephyr Wetherley, red and hot and confused,
crushed his handkerchief into a ball, and swept his hand through his
hair, wagging his foot, and rubbing his fingers together. "I understand,
Sir, what you wish to say, and I desire to tell you only--"