ween ourselves. I was hoping I'd have your father to help
me. I'm sure, as soon as you faced him with me, you'd realize that
your feeling about me is largely a delusion."

"And you?" said Jane softly. "Your feeling about me--the feeling that
made you kiss me--was that delusion?"

"It was--just what you saw," replied he, "and nothing more. The idea of
marrying you--of living my life with you doesn't attract me in the
least. I can't see you as my wife." He looked at her impatiently.
"Have you no imagination? Can't you see that you could not change, and
become what you'd have to be if you lived with me?"

"You can make of me what you please," repeated she with loving
obstinacy.

"That is not sincere!" cried he. "You may think it is, but it isn't.
Look at me, Jane."

"I haven't been doing anything else since we met," laughed she.

"That's better," said he. "Let's not be solemn. Solemnity is pose,
and when people are posing they get nowhere. You say I can make of you
what I please. Do you mean that you are willing to become a woman of
my class--to be that all your life--to bring up your children in that
way--to give up your fashionable friends--and maid--and carriages--and
Paris clothes--to be a woman who would not make my associates and their
families uncomfortable and shy?"

She was silent. She tried to speak, but lifting her eyes before she
began her glance encountered his and her words died upon her lips.

"You know you did not mean that," pursued he. "Now, I'll tell you what
you did mean. You meant that after you and I were married--or
engaged--perhaps you did not intend to go quite so far as marriage just
yet."

The color crept into her averted face.

"Look at me!" he commanded laughingly.

With an effort she forced her eyes to meet his.

"Now--smile, Jane!"

His smile was contagious. The curve of her lips changed; her eyes
gleamed.

"Am I not reading your thoughts?" said he.

"You are very clever, Victor," admitted she.

"Good. We are getting on. You believed that, once we were engaged, I
would gradually begin to yield, to come round to your way of thinking.
You had planned for me a career something like Davy Hull's--only freer
and bolder. I would become a member of your class, but would pose as a
representative of the class I had personally abandoned. Am I right?"

"Go on, Victor," she said.

"That's about all. Now, there are just two objections to your plan.
The first is,