"Oh, why do you mock, and make-believe that your heart is on your lips and nowhere else ?" she asked him.

"Is it your aim to be accounted trifling and shallow--you who can do such things as you have done but now?
Oh, it was noble! You made me very proud." "Proud ?" he echoed.

"Ah! Then it must be that you are resolved to take this impudent, fleering coxcomb for a husband," he said, rallying her with the words she had flung at him that night in the moonlit Croydon garden.
"How I was mistook in you!" quoth she.
He made philosophy.

"'Tis ever those in whom we are mistook that are best worth knowing," he informed her.

"The man or woman whom you can read at sight, is read and done with." "Yet you were not mistook in me," said she.
"I was," he answered, "for I deemed you woman." "What other have you found me ?" she inquired.
He flung wide his arms, and bade her into them.