never were two people less lover-like than you and I are."
"No, that's quite true," he replied, in a tone of voice which betokened
relief.
"So that I really don't see that we need concern ourselves further in
the matter," she added wishing to put him quite at his ease. "I'm not
offended, and you are not offended, and there's an end of it."
"You seem to me to be a very sensible young woman in some respects," the
Disagreeable Man remarked after a pause. He was now quite cheerful again,
and felt he could really praise his companion. "Although you have read
so much, you seem to me sometimes to take a sensible view of things.
Now, I don't want to be betrothed to you, any more than I suppose you
want to be betrothed to me. And yet we can talk quietly about the matter
without a scene. That would be impossible with most women."
Bernardine laughed. "Well, I only know," she said cheerily, "that I have
enjoyed my day very much, and I'm much obliged to you for your
companionship. The fresh air, and the change of surroundings, will have
done me good."
His reply was characteristic of him.
"It is the least disagreeable day I have spent for many months," he said
quietly.
"Let me settle with you for the sledge now," she said, drawing out her
purse, just as they came in sight of the Kurhaus.
They settled money matters, and were quits.
Then he helped her out of the sledge, and he stooped to pick up the
shawl she dropped.
"Here is the shawl you are always dropping," he said. "You're rather
cold, aren't you? Here, come to the restaurant and have some brandy.
Don't make a fuss. I know what's the right thing for you!"
She followed him to the restaurant, touched by his rough kindness. He
himself took nothing, but he paid for her brandy.
That evening after _table-d'hote_, or rather after he had finished his
dinner, he rose to go to his room as usual. He generally went off
without a remark. But to-night he said:
"Good-night, and thank you for your companionship. It has been my
birthday to-day, and I've quite enjoyed it."
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