Moreover, there is a certain sympathetic cordiality about her--"
"Which, of course," interrupted my companion, "you suppose she would
not show to any man but you."
"Yes," said I. "I am speaking honestly now, and that's the way it
strikes me. Of course I may be a fool, but I did think that a sympathy
had arisen between us which would not arise between her and anybody
else."
Miss Edith laughed heartily. "I am getting to know a great deal about
one side of the subject," she said. "And now tell me--is that all? I
don't believe it is."
"No," I answered, "it is not. There is something more which makes her
attractive to me. I cannot exactly explain it except by saying that it
is her surrounding atmosphere--it is everything that pertains to her.
It is the life she lives, it is her home, it is the beauty and peace,
the sense of charm which infuses her and everything that belongs to
her."
"Beautiful!" said Miss Edith. "I expected an answer like that, but not
so well put.
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