conscious philosophy, which made life so exciting and pleasant a thing
to him, would in any way help. Besides, he must stop this light banter,
which was like drawing plaster off a sore and unhealed wound.

"You're quite right," he said. "I am in love with her. Furthermore, I
asked her to marry me this morning."

This certainly had an effect.

"Good Lord!" said Francis. "And do you mean to say she refused you?"

"She didn't accept me," said Michael. "We--we adjourned."

"But why on earth didn't she take you?" asked Francis.

All Michael's old sensitiveness, his self-consciousness of his
plainness, his awkwardness, his big hands, his short legs, came back to
him.

"I should think you could see well enough if you look at me," he said,
"without my telling you."

"Oh, that silly old rot," said Francis cheerfully. "I thought you had
forgotten all about it."

"I almost had--in fact I quite had until this morning," said Michael.
"If I had remembered it I shouldn't have asked her."

He corrected himself.

"No, I don't think that's true," he said. "I should have asked her,
anyhow; but I should have been prepared for her not to take me. As a
matter of fact, I wasn't."

Francis turned sideways to the table, throwing one leg over the other.

"That's nonsense," he said. "It doesn't matter whether a man's ugly or
not."

"It doesn't as long as he is not," remarked Michael grimly.

"It doesn't matter much in any case. We're all ugly compared to girls;
and why ever they should consent to marry any of us awful hairy things,
smelling of smoke and drink, is more than I can make out; but, as a
matter of fact, they do. They don't mind what we look like; what they
care about is whether we want them. Of course, there are exceptions--"

"You see one," said Michael.

"No, I don't. Good Lord, you've only asked her once. You've got to make
yourself felt. You're not intending to give up, are you?"

"I couldn't give up."

"Well then, just hold on. She likes you, doesn't she?"

"Certainly," said Michael, without hesitation. "But that's a long way
from the other thing."

"It's on the same road."

Michael got up.

"It may be," he said, "but it strikes me it's round the corner. You
can't even see one from the other."

"Possibly not. But you never know how near the corner really is. Go for
her, Mike, full speed ahead."

"But how?"

"Oh, there are hundreds of ways. I'm not sure that one of the best isn't
to keep away for