She had made no plan of
campaign for the evening, having felt relieved when she found
herself able to postpone the project of her attack till the
morrow. Of course there must be an attack, but how it should be
made she had never the courage to tell herself. The great women of
the world, the Semiramises, the Pocohontas, the Ida Pfeiffers, and
the Charlotte Cordays, had never been wanting to themselves when
the moment for action came. Now she was pleased to have this
opportunity added to her; this pleasant minute in which some soft
preparatory word might be spoken; but the great effort should be
made on the morrow.
'Is not this nicer than shooting with Mr Dobbes?' she asked.
'A great deal nicer. Of course I am bound to say so.'
'But in truth, I want to find out what you really like. Men are so
different. You need not pay me any compliment; you know that well
enough.'
'I like you better than Dobbes,--if you mean that.'
'Even so much is something.'
'But I am fond of shooting.'
'Only a man may have enough of it.'
'Too much, if he is subject to Dobbes, as Dobbes likes them to be.
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