A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. “Sir John is not at all that sort. When I've had an hour's rest, I'll be after Blueskin. He was going to settle I forget how many millions upon me, and I think that I was dazzled. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously.
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