“We will put in tantalizing as another attractive quality,” he laughed. “I absolve you of all responsibility. Sit down.” “I believe you mentioned obedience,” she answered, and sat down again at the end of the bench, resting her chin on her gloved hand, and looking at him. By this time her glances seemed to have gained a visibly disturbing effect. He moved a little nearer to her, took off his hat (which he had hitherto neglected to do), and thrust his hands abruptly into his pockets--as much as to say that he would not be responsible for their movements if they were less free. “Hang it all, Victoria,” he exclaimed, “I'm a practical man, and I try to look at this, which is one of the serious things in life, in a practical way.” “One of the serious things,” she repeated, as though to herself. “Yes,” he said, “certainly.” “I merely asked to be sure of the weight you gave it. Go on.” “In a practical way, as I was saying. Long ago I suspected that you had most of those qualities.” “I'm overwhelmed, Humphrey,” she cried, with her eyes dancing. “But--do you think I could cultivate the rest?” “Oh, well,” said Mr. Crewe, “I put it that way because no woman is perfect, and I dislike superlatives.” “I should think superlatives would be very hard to live with,” she reflected. “But--dreadful thought!--suppose I should lack an essential?” “What--for instance?” “Love--for instance. But then you did not put it first. It was I who mentioned it, and you who took it for granted.” “Affection seems to be a more sensible term for it,” he said. “Affection is the lasting and sensible thing. You mentioned a partnership, a word that singularly fits into my notion of marriage. I want to be honest with you, and understate my feelings on that subject.” Victoria, who had been regarding him with a curious look that puzzled him, laughed again. “I have been hoping you haven't exaggerated them,” she replied. “They're stronger than you think,” he declared. “I never felt this way in my life before. What I meant to say was, that I never understood running away with a woman.” “That does not surprise me,” said Victoria. “I shouldn't know where to run to,” he proclaimed. “Perhaps the woman would, if you got a clever one. At any rate, it wouldn't matter. One place is as good as another. Some go to Niagara, and some to Coney Island, and others to Venice. Personally, I should have no particular preference.” “No preference!” he exclaimed. “I could be happy in Central Park,” she declared. “Fortunately,” said Mr. Crewe, “you will never be called upon to make the trial.” Victoria was silent. Her thoughts, for the moment, had flown elsewhere, but Mr. Crewe did not appear to notice this. He fell back into the rounded hollow of the bench, and it occurred to him that he had never quite realized that profile. And what an ornament she would be to his table. “I think, Humphrey,” she said, “that we should be going back.”