"That was pretty, and sincere, and--and like you," she mused. "I wonder why my answer sounded not quite so innately fine? Do you suppose it was because I've already become accustomed to meeting flippancy with flippancy? For if that isn't the reason then how would you explain my--my persistent tendency toward frivolity with you? Because it exists, you know. Truly it does! If I yielded to the impulse that is always with me, I--I'd coquette with you, disgracefully. Doesn't that--even surprise you? Now you _are_ laughing at me . . . why, you weren't listening at all!" His shamefacedness was an admission of guilt, but he shook his head in contradiction. "Not at you," he corrected her. "I wasn't laughing very heartily, or very steadily, was I? And I'm trying to listen; I am trying to pay attention to everything you say. It just isn't an easy thing to do, that's all, when--when I'm looking at you, too. But I promised you that you were always going to be sure of me. Couldn't that be reason enough; can't we just say you'd sensed it, yourself, even without my telling you so?" She bobbed her head, most anxious for his gravity now that she was not sure whether it was real or not. "I knew that must be it," she argued seriously. "I thought it must be, anyway. I just feel safe with you. And yet I don't want you ever to believe, either, that I am deliberately playing. It's just--oh, in my heart I know that you haven't any more than those two deuces, and--and the deal is mine. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? They always say it in--in books, Mr. O'Mara. They always agree to be the 'best of friends,' and it reads so funny and flat. But that is exactly what I am trying to put into words. It couldn't be anything more, ever, and yet I want this friendship which is different from everything I've ever known before. I like you very, very much. Listen, and I'll make a confession, too! I used to watch and hope you'd come back, after I'd sent you home, heart-sick, years ago. Do you suppose we might say the--the 'best of friends' in real life, too, and not sound instantly absurd?" "We might try it out," he suggested. Then she was positive that his face was too stiffly sober, but she ignored it--ignored, too, the tinge of whimsicality in his voice.