"Yes, yes; I believe she would," he answered, eagerly. "It only needs to take her from her mother, and she would be perfect." He stopped, suddenly abashed by Janetta's smile. "In her way, of course, I mean," he added, rather confusedly. "Ah," said Janetta, "it is certain that I should never be perfect. And after Margaret!" "I esteem you, I respect you, much more than Margaret." "But esteem is not enough, Sir Philip. No, you do not love me; and I think--if I may say so--that you do love Margaret Adair." Sir Philip reddened distressfully, and bit his lip. "I am quite sure, Miss Colwyn, that I have no thoughts of her that would do you an injustice. I did love Margaret--perhaps--but I found that I was mistaken in her. And she is certainly lost to me now. She loves another." "And you will love another one day, if you do not win her yet," said Janetta, with decision. "But you do not love _me_, and I certainly will never marry any one who does not. Besides--I should have a feeling of treachery to Margaret." "Which would be quite absurd and unwarrantable. Think of some better reason if you want to convince me. I hope still to make you believe that I do care for you." Janetta shook her head. "It's no use, Sir Philip. I should be doing very wrong if I consented, knowing what I do. And besides, there _is_ another reason. I cannot tell it to you, but indeed there is a good reason for my not marrying you." "Has it anything to do with position--or--or money, may I ask? Because these things are immaterial to me." "And I'm afraid I did not think about them," said Janetta, with a frank blush, which made him like her better than ever. "I ought to have remembered how great an honor you were doing me and been grateful!--no, it was not that." "Then you care for some one else? That is what it is." "I suppose it is," said Janetta. And then a very different kind of blush began--a blush of shame, which dyed her forehead and ears and neck with so vivid a crimson hue that Sir Philip averted his eyes in honest sympathy. "I'm afraid, then," he said, ruefully, but kindly, "that there's nothing more to be said." "Nothing," said Janetta, wishing her cheeks would cool. Sir Philip rose from his chair, and stood for a moment as if not knowing whether to go or stay. Janetta rose too. "If you were to change your mind----" he said. "This is a thing about which I could not possibly change my mind, Sir Philip." "I am sorry for it." And then he took his leave, and Janetta went to her room to bathe her hot face and to wonder at the way in which the whirligig of Time brings its revenges.