"Not by proposal or direct word, of course--though I'll wager there have been exceptions to that; but I've read, and believe from what I've seen, that 'tis oftenest the lady that gives the first hint. No doubt, she has already made sure of the gentleman's feelings, by signs he doesn't know of. If a man didn't receive some leading on from a woman, how would he dare tell her his mind?--for if he loves her he must dread her refusal, or scorn, beyond all things. However that be, I've seen, in companies, and at the play, and even in church, how girls contrive to show their partiality to the fellows they prefer. Why, we've both had it happen to us, when we were too young for the fancy to last. And 'tis the same, I'll wager, when the girls are women, and the stronger feeling has come, the kind that lasts. Be sure a girl as clever as Margaret will find a way of showing it, if she has set her mind on either of us. And so, I'm resolved to wait for some sign from her before I speak." He went on to explain that this course would prolong, to the unfortunate one, the possession of the pleasures of hope. It would save him, and Margaret, from the very unpleasant incident of a rejection. Such a refusal must always leave behind it a certain bitterness in the memory, that will touch what friendship remains between the two people concerned. And I know Philip's wish that, though he might not be her choice, his old friendship with her might continue perfectly unmarred, was what influenced him to avoid a possible scene of refusal. "Then I shall do as you do," said I, "and if I see any sign, either in my favour or yours, be sure I'll tell you." "I was just about to propose that," said Phil; and we resumed our fencing. There was, in our plan, nothing to hinder either of us from putting his best foot forward, as the saying is, and making himself as agreeable to the young lady as he could. Indeed that was the quickest way to call forth the indication how her affections stood. I don't think Phil took any pains to appear in a better light than usual. It was his habit to be always himself, sincere, gentle, considerate, and never thrusting forward. He had acquired with his growth a playful humour with which to trim his conversation, but which never went to tiresome lengths. This was all the more taking for his quiet manner, which held one where noise and effort failed. But I exerted myself to be mighty gallant, and to show my admiration and wit in every opportune way.