"Oh, I’m no altruist, but there’s selfishness _and_ selfishness.... What were we talking about? Oh! why you desired to join——" "No, we got past that." "Oh, yes; well, then, you say it was because of me. Why?" "I told you I didn’t know exactly why; but the root of it all was you.... And when you told me about some people who had come here—that fellow who spoke about a housekeeper——" "Jim Edgerton!" "What!" "I believe—but you _can’t_ be as nice as that! You simply can’t!" "Oh, I’m not nice," he protested, reddening; but she interrupted: "You _are_! I certainly believe you thought that Silvie and I required somebody masculine in our vicinity—to throw the housekeeping man downstairs, for example. Did you?" "No. I only——" "_Did_ you?" "Of course not." "Do you know," she said seriously, "you’re a perfect dear in one way, and I don’t know what you are in others. _Now_ be flattered, for _that_ makes you interesting. And you know it’s all up with a woman who finds a man interesting." She was laughing at him now, and he scarcely knew how to take what she said except to take it with a grin. "You’re a terrible torment, Diana," he said. "My value in my own estimation, since I’ve known you, has fluctuated between a dollar and a half and thirty cents." "You _said_ you had two dollars! I believe you’re one of these wealthy men who are always singing poor!" "How many other kinds of things do you think I am?" he asked resignedly. "I don’t know. I think I’ll amuse myself by finding out." "Meanwhile," he said, smiling, "remember I am always what I was when I first set eyes on you—no!—the next second _after_ I had seen you." "A lightning change, cousin?" "Like lightning, Diana." "The lightning of the gods?" "Diana’s own shaft.... ’The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night,’ but I stand betwixt the rising sun of Japan and—you, Diana. _Somebody’s_ shot me, that’s all." "You are perfectly delightful, but do you realize that I’m dissecting you all the while?" "You once said——" "Never mind that," she interrupted hastily; and blushed until it infuriated her to calmness. And to heal the sting with the cause of it she said: "You’re perfectly right, cousin; any man who can endure our scalpel will be worth seizing and dragging to the parson. But—you are perfectly safe for a while. It takes a lifetime to properly dissect a man of your sort. I’ll be eighty before I make up my mind about you." "Eighty years is not beyond the statute of limitations." "You’d marry me at eighty! Do you know you’re beginning to trouble me? I told you I was thoroughly feminine, and susceptible to flattery. I am; it’s too bad I’m so intelligent that I’ve really got to satisfy that intelligence by spending years and years in dissecting you. Otherwise, I’d run away with you now." "In your Japanese silks and little straw sandals?" "Oh, yes, if you were sentimental enough to insist." "I would."