She
listened to him for some time with interest and attention, but at
last her face became abstracted and thoughtful. "I wish I were a
man!" she said suddenly.
Paul looked at her quickly. For the first time he detected in the
ring of her voice something of the passionate quality he fancied he
had always seen in her face.
"Except that it might give you better control of your horse, I
don't see why," said Paul. "And I don't entirely believe you."
"Why?"
"Because no woman really wishes to be a man unless she is conscious
of her failure as a woman."
"And how do you know I'm not?" she said, checking her horse and
looking in his face. A quick conviction that she was on the point
of some confession sprang into his mind, but unfortunately showed
in his face. She beat back his eager look with a short laugh.
"There, don't speak, and don't look like that. That remark was
worthy the usual artless maiden's invitation to a compliment,
wasn't it? Let us keep to the subject of yourself. Why, with your
political influence, don't you get yourself appointed to some
diplomatic position over here?"
"There are none in our service. You wouldn't want me to sink
myself in some absurd social functions, which are called by that
name, merely to become the envy and hatred of a few rich
republicans, like your friends who haunt foreign courts?"
"That's not a pretty speech--but I suppose I invited THAT too.
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