As he's coming to dinner to-night, I'll watch and see if I
can find anything unusually strange about him.'
When William made his appearance, therefore, I observed him intently.
Surely enough I was struck by the fact that he was changed in some
subtle way. He looked dejected. Of course it was impossible to see
much of his expression, owing to his face being almost entirely
obliterated with hair, but what was visible was extremely sad.
Then a strange thing happened. As soon as we were alone he began to
exhibit signs of acute mental distress, and to my astonishment burst
out, 'Mrs. Warrington, there is something I wanted to--er--ask you.
You are a woman for whom I have a profound respect; though you are
inclined by character to be _un peu moqueuse_, you have, I feel, an
exceedingly tender heart.'
I felt uneasy. 'Yes, William, it is tender--but not for everybody,' I
added warningly. Really, it was going to be very awkward if he, in his
elephantine way, had conceived an infatuation for me. My conscience
was perfectly clear--I had not encouraged him in any way, but
nevertheless I did not wish to see him suffer from unrequited
affection. It would be so awkward in many ways. William, even in his
sane moods, has a dreadful habit of knocking things over. If the
abstraction of the lover descended upon him, it was going to have a
dire effect on our household goods.
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