"You appear to think that there is no one else in the world like John Marvel!" I said, fuming inwardly. "I do not. In a way, he stands by himself. Why, I thought you thought so too?" "Yes, of course--I do--I mean--I believe you are in--" I hesitated to finish the sentence, and changed it. "I believe you think more of him than of any one else." I did not really believe this--I wished her to deny it; but not she! I was playing at a game at which she was an expert from her cradle. A subtle change of expression passed over her face. She gave me a half glance, and then looked down. She appeared to be reflecting and as my eyes rested on her I became conscious of the same feeling of pleased wonder with which we gaze into a perfectly clear fountain whose crystal depths we may penetrate, but not fathom. "Yes, I think I do, in a way--I think him--quite wonderful. He appears to me the embodiment of truth--rugged and without grace--but so restful--so real--so sincere. I feel that if any great convulsion of Nature should occur and everything should be overthrown, as soon as we emerged we should find Mr. Marvel there unchanged--like Truth itself, unchangeable. If ever I marry, it will be to some man like that--simple and strong and direct always--a rock." She gazed placidly down while this arrow quivered in my heart. I wanted to say, "Why, then, don't you marry him?" But we were already too perilously near the edge for me to push matters further in that direction. I wished also to say, "Why don't you marry me?" but I was not conscious at the moment of any remarkable resemblance to a rock of strength. I recall her exact appearance as she waited. She happened to be arrayed that afternoon in a dark red dress, which fitted perfectly her slim, supple form, and her hat with a dark feather, and her dark hair about her brow gave her an air which reminded me of a red rose. It is not, however, the tint that makes the rose, but the rose itself. The rose is a rose, whether its petals be red or pink or white. And such she ever appeared to me. And the thorns that I found about her in no way detracted from her charms. Though I might have wished her less prone to show them, I did not find her pursuit the less delicious.