"
"Can you read my mind?"
"Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows."
"H'm! You're a strange woman! Do you believe in love?"
"No!"
"Nor do I! You and I ought to get married."
"I'm beginning to think so myself."
"Would you marry me?"
"Why not? At any rate, we shouldn't fight."
"Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?"
"Because we think alike."
"Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk
about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking."
"True; but wouldn't it be even more monotonous if we remained
unmarried and misunderstood?"
"You are right! Would you like to think it over?"
"Yes, until the cotillon."
"No longer?"
"Why any longer?"
He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several
glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two
young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of
them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen.
As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet.
"Do you accept me?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
And so they were engaged.
It's a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135