I have uttered my word to the wise. Eh bien!
It may not be so bad as I think. Let us hope so, at least."
"I have a vague notion that you'd rejoice if we should catch your ogre
and chop his head off," said he, coolly lighting a fresh cigarette. She
liked his assurance. He was not like other men.
Glancing up at his sandy thatch, she said, with a rueful droop at the
corners of her mouth, a contradictory smile in her eyes: "I shall
rejoice more if you do not lose your head afterwards."
"_Double entendre_?"
"Not at all."
"I thought, perhaps, you referred to an unhappy plight that already
casts its shadow before," he said boldly. "I may lose everything else,
my dear Countess, but _not_ my head."
"I believe you," she said, strangely serious. "I shall remember that."
She knew this man loved her.
"Sit down, now, and let us be comfy. We are quite alone," she added
instantly, a sudden confusion coming over her. "First, will you give me
that box of candy from the table? Thank you so much for sending it to
me. How in the world do you manage to get this wonderful New York candy
all the way to Graustark? It is quite fresh and perfectly delicious."
"Oh, Fifth Avenue isn't so far away as you think," he equivocated. "It's
just around the corner--of the world.
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