"I'd do it like a shot if it weren't for one drawback--that we both of us are penniless." "That is a nuisance, since we are both of us so fond of what money stands for. If you had five thousand a year perhaps I might marry you after all." "I'm sure you would." "Pray why are you sure? You've a conceit!" "I am sure." "If--I say if--I were to marry you, would you give me a good time?" "The very best--a time after your own heart." "Would you? Lots of frocks?" "All the frocks your soul desired." "Everything I wanted?" "That's a tall order. I'm only human." "That certainly is true. I shouldn't be surprised if you were more generous even than Tom." "I don't call that sort of thing generosity. A man gives things to a woman he cares for because he has a lively sense of favours to come." "That's candid. You've given me one or two trifles already. Has that been with a lively sense of favours to come?" "Perhaps." "You wretch! Would you care for me a little?" "I care for you more than a little now, as you are perfectly well aware." She turned and whispered something in his ear. He smiled, but kept silent. Presently she said aloud: "It would be rather a joke if we were to marry. Now that the idea's got into my head I can't get it out again. It makes little thrills go all over me--dear little thrills. I hope that if ever you do marry me it will be before I have had to resort to any of women's aids to beauty. I should like you to have me just as I am, while I am really at my best and while I can still bear the most searching investigation. My complexion's my own; I use no powder, rouge, or pencil. I haven't a false tooth in my head or even a stopped one. I've only a weeny pad on the top of my head, which is rendered absolutely necessary by the present style of hairdressing--everything about me's true." "Outside." "Sir! I dare say we shouldn't make such a very bad pair. Would you--like to marry me?" "Given an assured position, I would marry you." "Well, then, I'll tell you what we might do. You might marry Stella, and--dispose of her with some nice painless thing like chloral; and I might marry Tom, and--delicately dispose of him. Then we should both of us have an assured position, and--we could marry." "There's more in the idea than meets the eye." She threw the fag-end of her cigarette away from her and laughed. "You're simply ripping!" she exclaimed. CHAPTER VIII BY THE 9.10; THE FIRST PART OF THE JOURNEY