Do all women feel about the Crag as I do?
"I don't know," I answered weakly.
And I don't know! Oh, Jane, your simple experiment proposition is about
to become compound quadratics.
Then I got a still further surprise.
"I wouldn't in the least mind telling Mr. James how I like him--if you
think it is all right," Nell mused, looking pensively at the first pale
star that was rising over Old Harpeth. "I would enjoy it, because I
have always adored him, and it would be so interesting to see what he'd
say."
"Nell," I said suddenly with determination, "do it! Tell any man you
like how much you like him--and see what happens."
"I feel as if--as if"--Nell faltered and I don't blame her; I wouldn't
have said as much to her--"I feel that to tell Mr. James I love _him_
would ease the pain, the--pain--that I feel about Polk. It would be so
interesting to tell a man a thing like that."
"Do it!" I gasped, and went foot in the class in romantics.
If any jungle explorer thinks he has mapped and charted a woman's heart
he had better pack up his instruments of warfare and recorders and come
down to Glendale, Tennessee.
Nell and I must have talked further along the same lines, but I don't
remember what we said. I have recorded the high lights on the
conversation, but long after I lost her I kept my whirlwind feeling of
amazement. It was like trying to balance calmly on the lid of the
tinder-box when you didn't know whether or not you had touched off the
fuse.
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