Isabel continued, “and I must go home.” She rose from her place, but Ralph only sat still and looked at her. As he remained there she stopped, and they exchanged a gaze that was full on either side, but especially on Ralph’s, of utterances too vague for words.
“You’ve answered my question,” he said at last. “You’ve told me what I wanted. I’m greatly obliged to you.”
“It seems to me I’ve told you very little.”
“You’ve told me the great thing: that the world interests you and that you want to throw yourself into it.”
Her silvery eyes shone a moment in the dusk. “I never said that.” “I think you meant it. Don’t repudiate it. It’s so fine!”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to fasten upon me, for I’m not in the least an adventurous spirit. Women are not like men.”
Ralph slowly rose from his seat and they walked together to the gate of the square. “No,” he said; “women rarely boast of their courage. Men do so with a certain frequency.”
“Men have it to boast of!”
“Women have it too. You’ve a great deal.”
“Enough to go home in a cab to Pratt’s Hotel, but not more.”
Ralph unlocked the gate, and after they had passed out he fastened it. “We’ll find your cab,” he said; and as they turned toward a neighbouring street in which this quest might avail he asked her again if he mightn’t see her safely to the inn.
“By no means,” she answered; “you’re very tired; you must go home and go to bed.”
The cab was found, and he helped her into it, standing a moment at the door. “When people forget I’m a poor creature I’m often incommoded,” he said. “But it’s worse when they remember it!”
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