"How do you know that the girl was not right in her first estimate? For my part, I think a man who presumed to show the disapproval you speak of, and to say disagreeable things on slight acquaintance, fully justified her opinion of him; and if he seemed to change later, I should think it probable that something in her had shamed him out of his coldness and his selfishness. As for the superciliousness, I should be inclined to set down the appearance of that to the charge of an unconquerable shyness masquerading in the guise of self-assertion,--I have known men like that,--but the other qualities I believe were there. I suspect it was a reversal of the old story of Pygmalion and Galatea, as if he were slowly turning from stone to flesh, yet still held back by the old chill of stony habit,--an imprisonment which could only be broken by a word from her. Is there any chance that you will ever speak it--Winifred?" "Oh, no--no!" the girl answered brokenly. "Don't say anything more!" "I love you," Flint continued, as if the statement were necessary to his vindication. "Oh, but why do you tell me?" "Because I choose to have you know,--because I must tell it. I love you. I love you." He repeated the words with a persistence not to be put aside. Winifred was inwardly furious with herself for her own stupidity in giving him such an opening; but then, as she told herself, who could have foreseen it, with this man of all men! The shock of the surprise took her breath away, and robbed her of her usual self-command. She still strove to take the situation lightly, to treat it picturesquely, like a love-scene on a Watteau fan. "Here is another proof of your generosity," she said, with a half tremulous, wholly adorable little smile. "I asked for pardon and you offer love." Flint would not be put off so. "Ah, but I ask for so much more than I offer," he said. "And--if I cannot give it?" "Why, then," he answered steadily, "I shall still carry with me through life something you cannot take away if you would,--the ideal which these weeks have held up before me. If it is not for your best happiness to marry me, loving you as I do, I would not have you do it. The matter is in your hands--a simple 'Yes' or 'No' is all I ask." "But life is too complicated to be settled by a word like that. It could not be 'Yes'--but what if it is 'No'?" She paused a moment, and then, hurried on by a tidal wave of feeling, she burst out: "Oh, I don't suppose you can understand it; but much as I like you,--and I do like you now,--I feel as though if I promised to marry you, I might absolutely hate you." "Oh, yes," Flint answered quietly, "I can quite understand it; I think I should feel in the same way if I were not perfectly sure I loved a person." Winifred felt herself touched by his quick response and perfect comprehension of her state of mind; but her feeling was too intense, too direct and too importunate, to be stayed in its utterance.