or the companion of my life; I don't see very well how I am
to do without you. You know, I think, that I have only a moderate
competence; it's enough to live upon without miseries, that's all one
can say. Probably I shall never be richer, for I can't promise to exert
myself to earn money; I wish to live for other things. You can picture
the kind of life I want you to share. You know me well enough to
understand that my wife--if we use the old word--would be as free to
live in her own way as I to live in mine. All the same, it is love that
I am asking for. Think how you may about man and woman, you know that
there is such a thing as love between them, and that the love of a man
and a woman who can think intelligently may be the best thing life has
to offer them.'

He could not see her eyes, but she was smiling in a forced way, with
her lips close set.

'As you insisted on speaking,' she said at length, 'I had no choice but
to listen. It is usual, I think--if one may trust the novels--for a
woman to return thanks when an offer of this kind has been made to her.
So--thank you very much, Mr. Barfoot.'

Everard seized a little chair that was close by, planted it beside
Rhoda's, there seated himself and took possession of one of her hands.
It was done so rapidly and vehemently that Rhoda started back, her
expression changing from sportive mockery to all but alarm.

'I will have no such thanks,' he uttered in a low voice, much moved, a
smile making him look strangely stern. 'You shall understand what it
means when a man says that he loves you. I have come to think your face
so beautiful that I am in torment with the desire to press my lips upon
yours. Don't be afraid that I shall be brutal enough to do it without
your consent; my respect for you is stronger even than my passion. When
I first saw you, I thought you interesting because of your evident
intelligence--nothing more; indeed you were not a woman to me. Now you
are the one woman in the world; no other can draw my eyes from you.
Touch me with your fingers and I shall tremble--that is what my love
means.'

She was colourless; her lips, just parted, quivered as the breath
panted between them. She did not try to withdraw her hand.

'Can you love me in return?' Everard went on, his face still nearer.
'Am I anything like this to _you_? Have the courage you boast of. Speak
to me as one human being to another, plain, honest words.'

'I don't love you in the least. And