“I proposed to her three weeks ago,” said Gordon, as they walked along. “My heart was very much set upon it. I was very hard hit--I was deeply smitten. She had been very kind to me--she had been charming--I thought she liked me. Then I thought her mother was pleased, and would have liked it. Mrs. Vivian, in fact, told me as much; for of course I spoke to her first. Well, Angela does like me--or at least she did--and I see no reason to suppose she has changed. Only she did n’t like me enough. She said the friendliest and pleasantest things to me, but she thought that she knew me too little, and that I knew her even less. She made a great point of that--that I had no right, as yet, to trust her. I told her that if she would trust me, I was perfectly willing to trust her; but she answered that this was poor reasoning. She said that I was trustworthy and that she was not, and--in short, all sorts of nonsense. She abused herself roundly--accused herself of no end of defects.” “What defects, for instance?” “Oh, I have n’t remembered them. She said she had a bad temper--that she led her mother a dreadful life. Now, poor Mrs. Vivian says she is an angel.” “Ah yes,” Bernard observed; “Mrs. Vivian says that, very freely.” “Angela declared that she was jealous, ungenerous, unforgiving--all sorts of things. I remember she said ‘I am very false,’ and I think she remarked that she was cruel.” “But this did n’t put you off,” said Bernard. “Not at all. She was making up.” “She makes up very well!” Bernard exclaimed, laughing. “Do you call that well?” “I mean it was very clever.” “It was not clever from the point of view of wishing to discourage me.” “Possibly. But I am sure,” said Bernard, “that if I had been present at your interview--excuse the impudence of the hypothesis--I should have been struck with the young lady’s--” and he paused a moment. “With her what?” “With her ability.” “Well, her ability was not sufficient to induce me to give up my idea. She told me that after I had known her six months I should detest her.” “I have no doubt she could make you do it if she should try. That ‘s what I mean by her ability.” “She calls herself cruel,” said Gordon, “but she has not had the cruelty to try. She has been very reasonable--she has been perfect. I agreed with her that I would drop the subject for a while, and that meanwhile we should be good friends. We should take time to know each other better and act in accordance with further knowledge. There was no hurry, since we trusted each other--wrong as my trust might be. She had no wish that I should go away. I was not in the least disagreeable to her; she liked me extremely, and I was perfectly free to try and please her. Only I should drop my proposal, and be free to take it up again or leave it alone, later, as I should choose. If she felt differently then, I should have the benefit of it, and if I myself felt differently, I should also have the benefit of it.”