Why not he?
"But, John, you never told me that you had seen her again!" "Because you never asked me." We were silent.

Silent until we had walked along the whole length of a Roman encampment, the most perfect of the various fosses that seamed the flat--tokens of many a battle fought on such capital battleground, and which John had this morning especially brought me to look at.
"Yes," I said at last, putting the ending affirmative to a long train of thought, which was certainly not about Roman encampments; "yes, it is quite natural that you should admire her.

It would even be quite natural, and not unlikely either, if she--" "Pshaw!" interrupted he.

"What nonsense you are talking! Impossible!" and setting his foot sharply upon a loose stone, he kicked it down into the ditch, where probably many a dead Roman had fallen before it in ages gone by.
The impetuous gesture--the energetic "impossible," struck me less than the quickness with which his mind had worked out my unexpressed thought--carrying it to a greater length than I myself had ever contemplated.
"Truly, no possibilities or impossibilities of THAT sort ever entered my head.

I only thought you might admire her, and be unsettled thereby as young men are when they take fancies.