But I'm going to marry her to somebody before
I'm through--I'm--"
"You believe in marriage, then." Van Landing smiled, and, stooping,
picked up several sheets of paper evidently torn from a blank-book.
"This must be the courtship chapter. It seems rather sentimental."
"It is. Regular mush slush. It's the kind of courting a man who isn't
much does--that is, I guess it's the kind, but the Princess
understands. She's been fooled once. Tell me"--Carmencita leaned
forward and, arms again crossed on Van Landing's knees, looked
anxiously in his face--"what does a man say when he's really and truly
courting? I mean a nice man. When the Real one comes, the Right
one--what will he say? I'm just about there, and I don't know how to
go on."
"I wish I could tell you." Van Landing leaned back in his chair and,
taking out his watch again, looked at it. "I shouldn't dare to try to
write a novel, consequently--"
"I'll try anything while I'm waiting to go to work." Carmencita sat
back dejectedly. "Is a book a novel because it has love in it?"
"It is generally supposed to be. When you are older you may write
your love scenes with greater knowledge and--"
"No, I won't.
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