'You have such a peculiar way of putting questions,' said Hazel, emulating the composure in everything but her face. 'Never wording them so they can be answered. And there is no use in disturbing them ages beforehand. Shall I give you coffee, Mr. Rollo?' 'You are under a mistake. I am not going to be an age at Gyda's.' 'Well—then Gyda will be disappointed.' 'And you?—' 'You know you always have sufficient force of character to disappoint me easily.' 'Have I? Would it disappoint you very much if I proposed to be married at Christmas?' 'In that case,' answered Miss Wych, 'the force of character would be on my side, and the disappointment on yours.' 'May I ask your views?' said Dane, with a coolness that was provoking. 'Ah, be quiet!' said Hazel in desperation,—'you are perplexing all my ideas. Is it five lumps of sugar—or six—that go in when you have control of the sugar bowl?' 'The question is, just now, how many go in when you have the control?' But then he let the supper take its course for a while in commonplace peace. 'I wonder,' Wych Hazel began suddenly, her thoughts flying back to the talk before tea,—'I was thinking—I have thought very often,—how many things you will find in me that you do not like? And how little there is you would like to find!'— A flash of the eyes came to her across the table; and then Dane remarked quietly that he had thought of that a number of times. 'Indeed I may say,' he added, 'that I am always thinking of it.' She laughed a little bit, catching his meaning, but the serious look came back. 'For instance,' she said,—'all this that I spend on myself, you would—and do—spend on other people.' 'I think nothing can equal my astonishment at that "statement," except the impossibility of answering it!' 'But I do not mean anything ridiculous,' said Hazel,—'not bread and butter and partridges. At least, I don't know about the partridges—but you understand. And I do not mean that I would not give _them_ up,—only—' 'Did I convey the impression that I wished you to give up partridges?' 'Yes—if somebody else wanted them more,' said Hazel. 'And I am willing enough. But then, but then!—I wish you knew,' she said, rising abruptly as Dingee came in to clear the table. 'I wish I could tell you.'— CHAPTER XV. CONFIDENTIAL TALK. Dane waited, till Dingee's services had been performed and the door was closed behind him again; then came beside Wych Hazel where she was standing and drew her within his arm. 'What do you wish you could tell me, Hazel?' he said, with the tenderness of eye and voice which, with him, came instead of expletives of endearment. There was a faint quiver of the lips that answered, 'Things—about me, that you ought to know. And it is very hard to tell you some things, Mr. Rollo.' 'It would be easier, if you could call me something else,' he said, bending to kiss her. 'I should like to know anything about you. What are these "things"?'