"Come, come--you know what I mean."

"I may suspect, but I don't choose to answer hints, the meaning of which I
_only_ suspect. I might make a fool of myself."

"Well, I'll be plain. Are you in love with her?"

"Suppose I were, you are not the first to whom I should think it necessary
to confess."

"Well, are you paying your addresses to her?"

"I am sorry I cannot consent to make my answers as frank as your
questions. You have the advantage of me in straightforwardness, I confess.
Only you have got sun and wind of me both."

"Come, come--I hate dodging."

"I daresay you do. But just let me shift round a bit, and see what you
will do then.--Are _you in love with Miss Cathcart?"

"Yes."

"Upon my word, I shouldn't have thought it. Here have we been all
positively conspiring to do her good, and you have been paying ten times
the attention to the dogs and horses that you have paid to her."

"By Jove! it's quite true. But I couldn't somehow."

"Then she hasn't encouraged you?"