'That is what you call logic;--isn't it? Anything unexpected is
odd?'
'Lord Silverbridge, I won't be laughed at. You have been at Oxford
and ought to know what logic is.'
'That at any rate is ill-natured,' he replied, turning very red in
the face.
'You don't think I meant it. Oh, Lord Silverbridge, say that you
don't think I meant it. You cannot think I would willingly wound
you. Indeed, indeed, I was not thinking.' It had, in truth been
an accident. She could speak aloud because they were closely
surrounded by others, but she looked up in his face to see whether
he were angry with her. 'Say that you do not think I meant it.'
'I do not think you meant it.'
'I would not say a word to hurt you,--oh for more than I can tell
you.'
'It is all bosh of course,' said he laughing, 'but I do not like
to hear the old place named. I have always made a fool of myself,
some men do it and don't care about it. But I do it, and yet it
makes me miserable.'
'If that be so you will soon give over making--what you call a fool
of yourself, for my self I like the idea of wild oats.
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