But then, more likely than not, Rhoda had determined against marriage, and of him, especially, never thought for a moment as a possible husband.

Well, that was what he wanted to ascertain.
They conversed naturally enough till the meal was over.

Then their embarrassment revived, but this time it was Rhoda who took the initiative.
'Shall I leave you to your meditations ?' she asked, moving a few inches from the table.
'I should much prefer your society, if you will grant it me for a little longer.' Without speaking, she rose and led the way to the drawingroom.

There, sitting at a formal distance from each other, they talked--of the fog.
Would Miss Barfoot be able to get back at all?
'_A propos_,' said Everard, 'did you ever read "The City of Dreadful Night" ?' 'Yes, I have read it.' 'Without sympathy, of course ?' 'Why "of course"?
Do I seem to you a shallow optimist ?' 'No.

A vigorous and rational optimist--such as I myself aim at being.' 'Do you?
But optimism of that kind must be proved by some effort on behalf of society.' 'Precisely the effort I am making.