"Perhaps because I can't. All people are not gifted with your fertile imagination. Or because it would give _me_ no pleasure to see _you_ 'deliciously miserable.'" "Oh, you _wouldn't_ see that," says Molly, airily. "All you could say would not suffice to bring even the faintest touch of misery into my face. Angry I might be, but 'miserable,' never!" "Be assured, Molly, I shall never put your words to the test. Your happiness means mine." "See how the diamonds flash!" says Molly, presently, recurring to her treasure. "Is this the engagement-finger? But I will not let it stay there, lest it might betray me." "But every one knows it now." "Are John and Letty every one? At Herst they are still in blissful ignorance. Let them remain so. I insist on our engagement being kept secret." "But why?" "Because if it was known it would spoil all my fun. I have noticed that men avoid a _fiancee_ as they would a--a rattlesnake." "I cannot see why being engaged should spoil your fun." "But it would for all that. Come now, Ted, be candid: how often were you in love before you met me?" "Never." With the vehemence of a thousand oaths. "Well, then, to put it differently, how many girls did you like?" "Like?" Reluctantly. "Oh, as for that, I suppose I did fancy I liked a few girls." "Just so; and I should like to like a few men," says Miss Massereene, triumphantly. "You don't know what you are talking about," says Tedcastle, hotly. "Indeed I do. That is just one of the great points which the defenders of women's rights forget to expatiate upon. A man may love as often as he chooses, while a woman must only love once, or he considers himself very badly used. Why not be on an equal footing? Not that I want to love any one," says Molly; "only it is the injustice of the thing I abhor." "Love any one you choose," says Tedcastle, passionately, springing to his feet, "Shadwell or any other fellow that comes in your way, I shan't interfere. It is hardly necessary for you to say you don't 'want to love one.' Your heart is as cold as ice. It is high time this engagement--this farce--should come to an end." "If you wish it," says Molly, quietly, in a subdued tone, yet as she says it she moves one step--no more--closer to him. "But I do not wish it; that is my cruel fate!" cries the young man, taking both her hands and laying them over his heart with a despairing tenderness. "There are none happy save those incapable of knowing a lasting affection. Oh, Molly!"--remorsefully--"forgive me. I am speaking to you as I ought not. It is all my beastly temper; though I used not to be ill-tempered," says he, with sad wonder. "At home and among our fellows I was always considered rather easy-going than otherwise. I think the knowledge that I must part from you on Thursday (though only for a short time) is embittering me." "Then you are really sorry to leave me?" questions Molly, peering up at him from under her straw hat. "You know I am."