"I'd rather know your heart. But I'll wait." After a pause: "Why do you carry a fan on a day like this? I ask, to make general conversation."
Mrs. Somers, spreading the fan in her lap, and looking at it curiously: "I don't know." After a moment: "Oh yes; for the same reason that I shall have ice-cream after dinner to-day."
Campbell: "That's no reason at all." After a moment: "Are you going to have ice-cream to-day after dinner?"
Mrs. Somers: "I might. If I had company."
Campbell: "Oh, I couldn't stay after hinting. I'm too proud for that." He pulls his chair nearer and joins her in examining the fan in her lap. "What is so very strange about your fan?"
Mrs. Somers: "Nothing. I was just seeing how a fan looked that was the subject of gratuitous criticism."
Campbell: "I didn't criticise the fan." He regards it studiously.
Mrs. Somers: "Oh! Not the fan?"
Campbell: "No; I think it's extremely pretty. I like big fans."
Mrs. Somers: "So good of you! It's Spanish. That's why it's so large."
Campbell: "It's hand-painted, too."
Mrs. Somers, leaning back, and leaving him to the inspection of the fan: "You're a connoisseur, Mr. Campbell."
Campbell: "Oh, I can tell hand-painting from machine-painting when I see it. 'Tisn't so good."
Mrs. Somers: "Thank you."
Campbell: "Not at all. Now, that fellow – cavalier, I suppose, in Spain – making love in that attitude, you can see at a glance that he's hand-painted. No machine-painted cavalier would do it in that way. And look at the lady's hand. Who ever saw a hand of that size before?"
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