On the contrary, she felt easy and natural and quite at
home with him. There was nothing alarming about his flushed face
and laughing eyes. She was not at all afraid of him. She even felt
in some vague way older than he, though he had just told her that he
was twenty-five, and four years her senior.
She accepted the violets which he had hurriedly bought for her as he
came through the Langenmarkt, but she would not say that she loved
him, because she did not. She was in most ways quite a matter-of-
fact person, and she was of an honest mind. She said she would
think about it. She did not love him now--she knew that. She could
not say that she would not learn to love him some day, but there
seemed no likelihood of it at present. Then he would shoot himself!
He would certainly shoot himself unless she learnt to love him! And
she asked "When?" and they both laughed. They changed the subject,
but after a time they came back to it; which is the worst of love--
one always comes back to it.
Then suddenly he began to assume an air of proprietorship, and burst
into a hundred explanations of what fears he felt for her; for her
happiness and welfare. Her father was absent-minded and heedless.
He was not a fit guardian for her. Was she not the prettiest girl
in all Dantzig--in all the world? Her sister was not fond enough of
her to care for her properly. He announced his intention of seeing
her father the next day.
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