He does soon set her mind at rest, and she is surprised at a positive offer of marriage. He makes it because he knows she will be the more ready to devise ways of meeting him. "It is abrupt, I know," he begins, in a peculiarly apologetical tone, "but I wanted you to know my intentions. Circumstances might be rather against us if we undertook the orthodox courtship," and he smiles. "I am aware that I have not the graces of youth and comeliness, and for various reasons your family might oppose. But I am not a poor man, and I think--if a woman loved me--I want her to love me," he says, with sudden vehemence that looks like passion. "I want her to adore me, I want to know what it is to be loved in spite of my drawbacks!" He has touched the right chord in Marcia's nature. She is always ready to adore when opportunity offers. And though she has loved numberless times, she is ready to begin over again, and yields to the masterful force that experiments with her. The touch of her hand is soft and tremulous, and her kisses are delicate, sweet. He gives himself up to an idiocy he does not believe in, and really enjoys the blissfulness, as an Eastern despot might enjoy the admiration of a new slave. Marcia is supremely happy encircled by these strong arms. Before her closed eyes floats in magic letters her new name. She will not be the old maid of the family after all. If she did not know the world so well, she would be moved to show her gratitude, but it is much wiser to show her love. "I shall want to see you," he says, "and we cannot always count on occasions like these. I must leave the opportunities largely to you. A note directed to my box will escape prying eyes. We can have walks together; why, we could even have drives if you were good enough to invite me." "I should be delighted!" cries Marcia, exultantly. "Only, we must not choose public thoroughfares." And his smile is fascinating to Marcia, who of late has had no really impassioned love-making. He puts his arm around her as he stands up to go, and experiences a sort of tender contempt for her. He certainly could grow quite fond of this willing slave, and he will let himself enjoy all the pleasure that can be drained out of it. Marcia opens the hall door for her lover and closes it again softly. She meets Briggs coming in from fastening the library windows. "Briggs," she remarks, "that was Mr. Wilmarth. I had some special business with him. I have been drawing patterns; but I would rather his call should not be mentioned." Briggs bows obediently.