On going out to the street again, he was on the point of hailing
another taxi-cab, when Carrissima proposed walking at least a part of
the way.
"Carrissima," he said, gazing down into her eyes, a few minutes later,
"what is the colour?"
"Oh well," she replied, "there are ever so many blended together, you
know."
"I thought there must be two," he admitted.
"Of course," she said, "the general effect is bronze and black."
"Blue or grey?" murmured Mark, as she looked up again.
"Have many carpets made you mad?" she demanded. "I don't understand
what you are talking about!"
"I was wondering about the colour of your eyes. I can't quite make up
my mind about them," he continued. "At one moment they look grey, at
another blue."
"Surely," answered Carrissima, quite unwontedly happy, "you have known
me long enough to feel no doubt."
"It is possible," said Mark, "that I have known you too long."
"Oh, thank you," she exclaimed. "So custom stales any variety they
possess."
"Not at all," he urged. "What I meant was that familiarity, as the
copybooks say, may breed a kind of--well, scarcely contempt----"
"Mark," said Carrissima, "the more you say the worse you will make it.
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