"The idea, I mean," said the widow, blushing. "Those are the real proofs of love." "But," protested the bachelor, "they aren't impressive. How are you going to let the girl know——"[80] [80] "A girl always knows," declared the widow. "Are you going to say, 'Araminta, darling, I put on odd socks this morning and salted my coffee and sugared my chop.' Accept this as a proof?" "No, no, no," said the widow, laughing, "of course not! But when you arrive at her house half an hour before the time and appear at odd and embarrassing moments without a rational excuse and get mixed on your dates and look at her as if she were the moon or a ghost, and might disappear at any moment, and sit for hours gazing into space and moistening your lips in the hope that you will think of something to say——" "She knows that she's got you!" groaned the bachelor. "Oh, she may not," declared the[81] widow, cheerfully. "She may not know anything. She may be in love herself." [81] "That's it!" protested the bachelor, "knowing you're in love is only half the trouble. How are you going to know when a girl has reached the love stage? How are you going to know that she is not just dangling you, or marrying you for your money? They're so clever and wise and coquettish and——" "When a girl is in love," said the widow, "she ceases being clever and wise and coquettish. She becomes mooney and silent and begins to notice things about you that you never knew yourself, such as that your nose is like Napoleon's or that you have a profile like E. H. Sothern and shoulders like Hackett's and hair[82] like Kyrle Bellew's. She never keeps you waiting, but is always dressed and sitting in the parlor an hour before you arrive and is never in a hurry to get home and will walk for blocks beside you in the rain with her best hat on without caring. She begins to 'mother' you——" [82] "To what?" "To caution you about getting your feet wet and avoiding a draught and wearing your overcoat and to look at you every time you leave her as if she was afraid you would die before morning and—Mr. Travers, do you know I believe this train has
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