_Bartlett_, with the desperate intention of grappling with the situation.--"I see you have a passion for formulating, classifying people, Miss Wyatt. That's all very well, if one's characteristics were not so very characteristic of everybody else. But I generally find in my moments of self-consciousness, when I've gone round priding myself that such and such traits are my peculiar property, that the first man I meet has them all and as many more, and isn't the least proud of them. I dare say you don't see anything very strange in them, so far." _Constance_, musingly.--"Oh, yes; very strange indeed. They're all--wrong!" _Bartlett._--"Well! I don't know--I'm very sorry-- Then you consider it wrong not to like shooting and to be fond of joking and nature, and"-- _Constance_, bewilderedly.--"Wrong? Oh no!" _Bartlett._--"Oh, I'm glad to hear it. But you just said it was." _Constance_, slowly recalling herself, with a painful blush, at last.--"I meant--I meant I didn't expect any of those things of you." _Bartlett_, with a smile.--"Well, on reflection, I don't know that I did, either. I think they must have come without being expected. Upon my word, I'm tempted to propose something very ridiculous." _Constance_, uneasily.--"Yes? What is that?" _Bartlett._--"That you'll let me try to guess _you_ out. I've failed so miserably in my own case, that I feel quite encouraged." _Constance_, morbidly.--"I'm not worth the trouble of guessing out." _Bartlett._--"That means no. You always mean no by yes, because you can't bear to say no. That is the mark of a very deep and darkling nature. I feel that I _could_ go on and read your mind perfectly, but I'm afraid to do it. Let's get back to myself. I can't allow that you've failed to read my mind aright; I think you were careless about it. Will you give your intuitions one more chance?" _Constance_, with an anxious smile.--"Oh yes." _Bartlett._--"All those traits and tastes which we both find so unexpected in me are minor matters at the most. The great test question remains. If you answer it rightly, you prove yourself a mind-reader of wonderful power; if you miss it-- The question is simply this: Do I like smoking?" _Constance_, instantly, with a quick, involuntary pressure of her handkerchief to her delicate nostrils.--"Oh, yes, indeed!" _Bartlett_, daunted and reddening.--"Miss Wyatt, you have been deluding me. You are really a mind-reader of great subtlety."