My soul was filled with unutterable compassion for him.
"Because," I ventured, when Lovell reappeared again, affecting a tone of
lively inspiration: "because she can't go around it?"
"You--you've heard of it before!" gravely protested Lovell.
"I confess," said I, "that I have. It used to be my favorite riddle."
"It--it used to be mine, too," said Lovell. "It _used_ to be, Miss
Hungerford--ahem! It _used_ to be--You--you couldn't tell what I was
thinking of when I--ahem--when I started from home to-night, now, could
you, Miss Hungerford?" said Lovell, at length.
"I'm sure I couldn't, Mr. Barlow," said I: "but I hope it was something
very agreeable."
"But it wasn't," said Lovell; "that is, not very, Miss Hungerford; ahem!
not very. I was--I was--ahem! I was thinking of it, you know, of--of such
a thing as getting married, you know."
"I hope," said I, cheerfully, after a pause; "that as you consider the
subject longer, it will be a less painful one to you."
"I hope so, Miss Hungerford," said Lovell. "Ahem! I hope so, certainly;"
but there was little of that sanguine quality expressed in his tones.
The great white horse made another plunge forward, and Lovell recovered
himself with a desperate effort.
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