“Then you do not love me, Gwen. When I remember that we may have a long future I thrill with joy--because we shall be together always--unless death should part us. This is just what I have prayed and longed for, and I found myself getting terribly depressed the other day because I was twelve years older than you, and might have to leave you a little while alone in the world.” His accent and expression showed such deep sincerity, such a passion of yearning love, that, although Lady Gwendolyn was rather chary of her caresses as a rule, thinking she had already made too many concessions, she bent down now, and laid her fresh, cool cheek against his hand. “Don’t, darling,” he said diffidently. “You pain me.” “Why not let me be a little humble, Lawrence? Balzac says that you can never be sure you have really won a woman’s love until she is on her knees before you.” “I think I could bear to see you there if it had such a meaning.” She slipped down, blushing, and looked up at him with such a divine smile, such true love-light in her eyes, that he would have been less than human if he had not strained her to his heart, while he murmured again and again that he loved her better than life, next to honor, and after God. Still, when he released her, he said, with comical persistence: “Now for the ninety-seventh, Gwen?” “I am tired of giving you reasons, you dispose of them so summarily.” “Because they are so flimsy, and unsubstantial. And, seriously, darling, it is right we should be married at once. You stand quite alone--you are beautiful enough to make other women your enemies by simply unveiling your face. And you will surely be very lonely in lodgings.” “Am I to go into lodgings, then?” “I am sorry to say you ought. There can be no excuse for your remaining here, now that I am so much stronger.” Lady Gwendolyn looked exceedingly grave. “It seems very difficult to be single comfortably,” she said. “Yes, there the world is good enough to help us poor lovers. Some of you would hesitate half your life away if you did not occasionally feel the need of masculine aid and intervention.” “I wish I were strong-minded, then.” “Thank goodness, you are not! Only in that case I should not be pleading to you now, as there is nothing earthly of which I have a greater horror than a woman who raves about her rights, and lectures publicly on things she does not half understand.” “When I lecture I’ll get you to coach me beforehand,” said Lady Gwendolyn saucily. “Of course I should not like to be deprived of my rights any more than the rest.” “Do you know what they are?” “I suppose I do. Let me see, I have a right to your entire affection.” “Granted. What next?” She hesitated a long time, and then laughed out gaily.