But as things are, I and my name don't fit each other.
When you hear a young lady called Eleanor, you think of a tall,
beautiful, interesting creature directly--the very opposite of
_me_! With my personal appearance, Eleanor sounds ridiculous;
and Neelie, as you yourself remarked, is just the thing. No! no!
don't say any more; I'm tired of the subject. I've got another
name in my head, if we must speak of names, which is much better
worth talking about than mine."
She stole a glance at her companion which said plainly enough,
"The name is yours." Allan advanced a step nearer to her, and
lowered his voice, without the slightest necessity, to a
mysterious whisper. Miss Milroy instantly resumed her
investigation of the ground. She looked at it with such
extraordinary interest that a geologist might have suspected
her of scientific flirtation with the superficial strata.
"What name are you thinking of?" asked Allan.
Miss Milroy addressed her answer, in the form of a remark, to
the superficial strata--and let them do what they liked with it,
in their capacity of conductors of sound. "If I had been a man,"
she said, "I should so like to have been called Allan!"
She felt his eyes on her as she spoke, and, turning her head
aside, became absorbed in the graining of the panel at the back
of the carriage.
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