"Although, do you know," she said, "there is nothing in the world which I
should like to find out so much as what it was we went to Dr. Heidenhoff
in order to make me forget. What do you look so sober for? Wouldn't I
really be glad if I could?"

"It's really nothing of any consequence," he said, pretending to be
momentarily absorbed in opening his penknife.

"Supposing it isn't, it's just as vexatious not to remember it," she
declared.

"How did you like Dr. Heidenhoff?" he asked.

"Oh, I presume he's a good enough doctor, but I thought that joke about
an affair of the heart wasn't at all nice. Men are so coarse."

"Oh, he meant no harm," said Henry, hastily.

"I suppose he just tried to say the absurdest thing he could think of to
put me off the track and make me laugh. I'm sure I felt more like boxing
his ears. I saw you didn't like it either, sir."

"How so?"

"Oh, you needn't think I didn't notice the start you gave when he spoke,
and the angry way you looked at him. You may pretend all you want to, but
you can't cheat me. You'd be the very one to make an absurd fuss if you
thought I had even so much as looked at anybody else." And then she burst
out laughing at the red and pale confusion of his face. "Why, you're the
very picture of jealousy at the very mention of the thing. Dear me, what