Again Dorothy reddened. She would dearly have liked to fling a triumphant "Yes, we _are_ engaged!" into Amory's pretty face, but she and Stanhope had their pact about that. They were not officially engaged. Once more Amory had her at a disadvantage. "No," she said shortly. It cost her a struggle not to add the mitigating words "Not yet." "Oh ... I beg your pardon," said Amory, instantly apologetic. "You see----" she hesitated. "Well, what do I see?" Dorothy Lennard demanded. Against her wishes she felt herself getting angry again. "Well, dear, you _did_ ask me about Cosimo----" "You're not engaged to him, are you?" "No--but then----" "You mean you don't let him kiss you?" sprang from Dorothy's lips. Amory thought it crude--revolting.... Then for the second time Dorothy boiled up and over. "Well, it seems to me you might just as well!" she cried. "Better, I should say--it seems to me you do everything else! I think I've given up trying to understand you clever people; you're beyond me entirely. I _like_ being a man's plaything--_there!_ I don't mind one little bit being a chattel--_there!_ And I think it would be perfectly ripping being property, as long as you belonged to the right person! And I _do_ believe in one law for the man and another for the woman. They _are_ different--they _are_, Amory! They're--they're--_ever_ so different! And I'm glad!... And it seems to me that if you and Cosimo lived in the same house you needn't kiss one another if you didn't want to, and anyway it would save a good deal of walking about! That alone might be worth getting married for--you could talk about the State quite undisturbed then! I know it's no business of mine, but you shouldn't look at me as you have been doing for the last ten minutes all on account of nothing! I'm sorry if I seem angry, because I'm not bad-tempered really, but dash it all, I do think it's the one thing a woman can't afford to be impracticable about, and sometimes you really do seem hopeless, Amory!... Unless----" she checked herself instantly. But it was too late. She had said the word. Amory knew what it was that she had cut off so short--"Unless you _do_ know your business after all, and think that always sitting in his pocket, and letting him play with your hair, and talking about Heredity all the time, is the way to get him!" That was the peck that Dorothy measured her out of her own bushel! Those were the very methods by which Dorothy herself got round her Mr. Miller, and her Mr. Hamilton Dix, and this smart young man, whoever he was.... She meant that between herself and Amory there was not at bottom a pin to choose....