“That is an equivocal compliment to her, for the man who really gets her, who carries her off before she has a chance to engage herself to any one else—” “Oh, the man who actually gets her will be made very happy.” “That is real faith.” “The curious thing is that Alice is not a flirt at all. She certainly will make a charming and loyal wife for some fellow.” “You won’t mind if I remain incredulous on that point?” “You are a man.” [Illustration] “Yet I can see that she might be in some respects a more comfortable girl to be married to than to be engaged to. Her past must make an informed betrothed much more uneasy than it ever can make her husband.” “Well, I assure you that I am as bad as all the men—I like Alice. I have tried to manage other girls who annoyed me much more. There was Miss—we shall say Miss Huron, a Wisconsin girl, who was with us at Nantucket. Probably I am telling you too much. It is a tribute to your admirably feigned interest. Well, Miss Huron had the funniest habit of staying up late. She hated to see her company go home. You couldn’t frown or nudge her into letting them go when they wanted to. She was the most owlish of night birds. When it came to going in the barge to a dance (‘barge’ is Nantucket for bus or carryall) it was she who always kept the barge waiting at the dance. If she couldn’t be out late in any other way she seemed to be able to have accidents happen, and if she had to walk home over four miles of dark road after a carriage break-down she was as happy as a child, though the man might be worried and fagged. Yet she was the soul of prudence, and never got engaged to anybody.” “Do you know,” I said, “a man takes a peculiar pleasure in hearing of such idiosyncrasies in women. These traits give individuality to them. Women are apt to seem too much alike. I am going to suggest to Jaxton that he write something in the Darwinian spirit on ‘The Petty Depravities of Modern Women.’ It would be very instructive. You could be a great help to Jaxton.” Miss Rittingway doubtless would have rebuked me had she not at that moment caught sight of Miss Pansy Marshford and Crewton crossing from the ball grounds toward the booths. “Poor Pansy!” she murmured. “If you will forgive me for that momentary flippancy,” I said, “I should like to know why you are poor-ing Pansy. I thought every one was envying her.” “Do you know Crewton?” “Not well enough to refuse your opinion.” “Probably you know that Crewton is very good. That is not the trouble,” she added with her enigmatical laughter of the eyes. “As he has lots of money it is a great credit to him to be so good. But Pansy wanted another man.” “Did she hold off Crewton?” “As long as she could.” “Well, she at least has Crewton.” “Is that optimism?” she asked. “No; it is long division. What is the use of watching for miracles? Probably Pansy will be just as happy with Crewton as Alice will be with the last man she becomes engaged to.”