He rallied in a moment.
"What sort of man do girls fall in love with, Miss Fanny ?" Fanny Newt was perfectly silent.

She looked down upon the floor of the piazza, fixing her eyes upon a pine-knot, patiently waiting, and wondering which way the grain of the wood ran.
The silence continued.

Every moment Alfred was conscious of an increasing nervousness.

There were the Junonine shoulders--the neck--the downcast eyes--moonlight--the softened music.
"Why don't you answer ?" asked he, at length.
Fanny bent her head nearer to him, and dropped these words into his waistcoat: "How good you are! I am so happy!" "What on earth have I done ?" was the perplexed, and pleased, and ridiculous reply.
"Mr.Dinks, how could I answer the question you asked without betraying-- ?" "What ?" inquired Alfred, earnestly.
"Without betraying what sort of man _I_ love," breathed Fanny, in the lowest possible tone, which could be also perfectly distinct, and with her head apparently upon the point of dropping after her words into his waistcoat.
"Well ?" said Dinks.
"Well, I can not do that, but I will make a bargain with you.

If you will say what sort of girl you would love, I will answer your question." Fanny dreaded to hear a description of Hope Wayne.