"I don't think I was looking at you, but if I was I beg your pardon,"
said the philosopher, apologetically.

She pulled the tuft of grass right out of the ground, and flung it
from her with all her force.

"Suppose a man--" she began. "No, that's not right."

"You can take any hypothesis you please," observed the philosopher,
"but you must verify it afterward, of course."

"Oh, do let me go on. Suppose a girl, Mr. Jerningham--I wish you
wouldn't nod."

"It was only to show that I followed you."

"Oh, of course you 'follow me,' as you call it. Suppose a girl
had two lovers--you're nodding again--or, I ought to say, suppose
there were two men who might be in love with a girl."

"Only two?" asked the philosopher. "You see, any number of men
_might _ be in love with--"

"Oh, we can leave the rest out," said Miss May, with a sudden
dimple; "they don't matter."

"Very well," said the philosopher, "if they are irrelevant we will
put them aside."