riting?"

"I only put down (B.)--like that," pleaded the philosopher, meekly
exhibiting his notebook.

She looked at him in a sort of helpless exasperation, with just a smile
somewhere in the background of it.

"Oh, you really are----" she exclaimed. "But let me go on. The other
man is a friend of the girl's; he's very clever--oh, fearfully clever;
and he's rather handsome. You needn't put that down."

"It is certainly not very material," admitted the philosopher, and he
crossed out "handsome." "Clever" he left.

"And the girl is most awfully--she admires him tremendously; she thinks
him just the greatest man that ever lived, you know. And she--she----"
The girl paused.

"I'm following," said the philosopher, with pencil poised.

"She'd think it better than the whole world if--if she could be
anything to him, you know."

"You mean become his wife?"

"Well, of course I do--at least suppose I do."

"You spoke rather vaguely, you know."

The girl cast one glance at the philosopher as she replied:

"Well, yes. I did mean, become his wife."

"Yes. Well?"

"But," continued the girl, starting on another tuft of grass, "he
doesn't think much about those things. He likes her. I think he likes
her----"

"Well, doesn't dislike her?" suggested the philosopher. "Shall we call
him indifferent?"

"I don't know. Yes, rather indifferent. I don't think he thinks about
it, you know. But she--she's pretty. You needn't put that down."

"I was not about to do so," observed the philosopher.

"She thinks life with him would be just heaven; and--and she thinks she
would make him awfully happy. She would--would be so proud of him, you
see."

"I see. Yes!"

"And--I don't know how to put it, quite--she thinks that, if he ever
thought about it all, he might care for her; because he doesn't care
for anybody else; and she's pretty----"

"You said that before."

"Oh, dear! I dare say I did. And most men care for somebody, don't
they? Some girl, I mean."

"Most men, no doubt," conceded the philosopher.

"Well, then, what ought she to do? It's not a real thing, you know,
Mr. Jerningham. It's in--in a novel I was reading." She said this
hastily, and blushed as she spoke.

"Dear me! And it's quite an interesting case! Yes, I see. The
question is, Will she act most wisely in accepting the offer of the man
who loves her exceedingly, but for whom she entertains only a moderate
affection----"

"Yes