Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. It slipped out—as did that “she”. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. ” Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view.
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