"I don't believe he's enough of a fool to put his own eyes out."

"You don't know him."

"I'd try, anyway."

"It wouldn't do any good."

"I don't believe you care anything about him, Charlotte Barnard!"
Rose cried out. "If you did, you couldn't give him up so easy for
such a silly thing. You sit there just as calm. I don't believe but
what you'll have another fellow on the string in a month. I know one
that's dying to get you."

"Maybe I shall," replied Charlotte.

"Won't you, now?" Rose tried to speak archly, but her eyes were
fiercely eager.

"I can't tell till I get home from the grave," said Charlotte. "You
might wait till I did, Rose." She got up and went to dusting her
bureau and the little gilt-framed mirror behind it. Her lips were
shut tightly, and she never looked at her cousin.

"Now don't get mad, Charlotte," Rose said. "Maybe I ought not to have
spoken so, but it did seem to me you couldn't care as _much_-- It
does seem to me I couldn't settle down and be so calm if I was in
your place, and all ready to be married to anybody. I should want to
do something."