tion, my dear."

"Do you? Then that shows how little you know about it."

Christopher put his arm round her. "I always was stupid, you know; you
have told me so with considerable frequency."

"Oh! so you were; but you were never worse than stupid."

"That's a good thing; for stupidity is a misfortune rather than a
fault."

"Now I was worse than stupid--much worse," continued Elisabeth gravely;
"but I never was actually stupid."

"Weren't you? Don't be too sure of that. I don't wish to hurt your
feelings, sweetheart, or to make envious rents in your panoply of
wisdom; but, do you know, you struck me now and again as being a
shade--we will not say stupid, but dense?"

"When I thought you didn't like me because you went to Australia, you
mean?"

"That was one of the occasions when your acumen seemed to be slightly at
fault. And there were others."

Elisabeth looked thoughtful. "I really did think you didn't like me
then."

"Denseness, my dear Elisabeth--distinct denseness. It would be gross
flattery to call it by any other name."

"But you never told me you liked me."

"If I had, and you had then thought I did not, you would have been
suffering from deafness, not denseness. You are confusing terms."

"Well, then, I'll give in and say I was dense. But I was worse than
that: I was positively horrid as well."

"Not horrid, Betty; you couldn't be horrid if you tried. Perhaps you
were a little hard on me; but it's all over and done with now, and you
needn't bother yourself any more about it."

"But I ought to bother about it if I intend to make a trustworthy
step-ladder out of my dead selves to upper storeys."

"A trustworthy fire-escape, you mean; but I won't have it. You sha'n't
have any dead selves, my dear, because I shall insist on keeping them
all alive by artificial respiration, or restoration from drowning, or
something of that kind. Not one of them shall die with my permission;
remember that. I'm much too fond of them."

"You silly boy! You'll never train me and discipline me properly if you
go on in this way."

"Hang it all, Betty! Who wants to train and discipline you? Certainly
not I. I am wise enough to let well--or rather perfection--alone."

Elisabeth nestled up to Christopher. "But I'm not perfection, Chris; you
know that as well as I do."

"Probably I shouldn't love you so much if you were; so please don't
reform, dear."

"And you like me just as I am?"

"Precisely. I should break