“You’re young. I hadn’t given enough consideration to that. Shall we forget our differences and be as we were, Betty?” “You don’t mean--be engaged?” “That’s exactly what I mean.” “Oh, Justin, I can’t. I thought you meant we’d made a mistake in ever being engaged. We did. We’re not suited to each other.” “I don’t agree with you. Your letter convinced me that we are.” “I didn’t mean it that way at all,” she said unhappily. “We’re not, Justin. Not a bit. I’m too--too kinda wild for you. You don’t want a wife like me. If you knew, you wouldn’t want me a bit.” “I’m the best judge of that,” he answered, smiling a little. “But you don’t. I’d always be troubling you with my crazy ways.” “No. It’s just that you’re young,” he insisted. “It isn’t. I’m born that way. I’ll always be like that. Besides--” She stopped, searching for a way to put it gently. “Besides, I’d want a husband--if I ever marry at all--who needs me, who has to have me, who can’t get along without me.” “I need you,” he said. “Oh no, you don’t. Not really. You think you do, maybe, but not in the way I mean. You’re strong--self-sufficient. Please, I don’t mean it in an uncomplimentary way. But you _are_ big, you know. A wife would have to fit into you--be just a--an important detail of your life. I couldn’t do that. I’ve got to be everything to a man--help him--talk over his difficulties with him--be just the biggest thing in the world to him. I couldn’t really _do_ anything for you. You’re complete. You don’t need anything done for you. With or without me, you’re going to be awf’ly successful. Oh, I know it sounds silly, but it isn’t.” “Do you mean you like me less because I’m reliable and efficient and--well, I take your own word--on the road to success? Would you want to marry an irresponsible failure?” The allusion was plain, and she did not like him better for it. None the less, she recognized that this man, standing there in the quiet arrogance of strength, had qualities admirable and worthy of great respect. He was master of himself and, so far as one can be, of his destinies. The cleft chin, the square jaw, the cold gray eyes so keen and steady, expressed character, and of a kind that would take him far. But it was a road she would not travel with him. “No. But I’d like to know that I was a help to my husband in making his success. You can’t understand, Justin. I’m not what you want--not at all. If you saw me as I am, you’d know it. I’d always be affronting your sense of the fitting thing. The right wife for you is one who would sit at the head of your table well-dressed, handsome, and charming, an evidence of your standing in the community. You know--a gracious hostess, good at teas and bridge and that sort of thing. You’re really a city man. I’m not a city woman and never shall be.”