I have judiciously placed myself with my back to the light, so that, if that exasperating flood of crimson bathe my face--and bathe it it surely will--is not it coming now ?--do not I feel it creeping hotly up ?--it may be as little perceptible as possible.
"It must be a great, great _surprise_ to you!" he says, interrogatively, and still with that sound of extreme and baffled wonder in his tone.
"Immense!" reply I.
I speak steadily if low; and I look determinedly back in his face.
Whatever color my cheeks are--I believe they are of the devil's own painting--I feel that my eyes are honest.

He has picked up the note, and is reading it again.
"She seems to have no doubt"-- (with rising wonder in face and voice)--"as to its greatly pleasing _you_!" "So it would have done at one time," I answer, still speaking (though no one could guess with what difficulty), with resolute equanimity.
"And does not it now ?" (very quickly, and sending the searching scrutiny of his eyes through me).
"I do not know," I answer hazily, putting up my hand to my forehead.

"I cannot make up my mind, it all seems so sudden." A pause.

Roger has forgotten the partridges.

He is sunk in reflection.
"Was there ever any talk of this before ?" he says, presently, with a hesitating and doubtful accent, and an altogether staggered look.