"
"Exactly," said Osmond with his quiet quickness. "As I intimated
just now, you'll be tired some day." He paused a moment and then he
went on: "I don't know whether I had better not wait till then for
something I want to say to you."
"Ah, I can't advise you without knowing what it is. But I'm horrid
when I'm tired," Isabel added with due inconsequence.
"I don't believe that. You're angry, sometimes- that I can
believe, though I've never seen it. But I'm sure you're never
'cross.'"
"Not even when I lose my temper?"
"You don't lose it- you find it, and that must be beautiful." Osmond
spoke with a noble earnestness. "They must be great moments to see."
"If I could only find it now!" Isabel nervously cried.
"I'm not afraid; I should fold my arms and admire you. I'm
speaking very seriously." He leaned forward, a hand on each knee;
for some moments he bent his eyes on the floor. "What I wish to say to
you," he went on at last, looking up, "is that I find I'm in love with
you."
She instantly rose. "Ah, keep that till I am tired!"
"Tired of hearing it from others?" He sat there raising his eyes
to her. "No, you may heed it now or never, as you please.
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