"Of course he is," interrupted Roma--"very attractive, and splendidly handsome, and everything that is likely to make any girl fall in love with him. But I am not any girl, Gertrude, and I never _could_ fall in love with him. Oh, I do wish you would get that well into your little head! What a great deal of worry it would save you and me! I have a real liking and affection for Beauchamp--how could I not have it, when you remember how we have been thrown together?--but I know his faults and weaknesses as well as his good qualities. Oh, no! If ever I imagine myself falling in love with any one, it is with a very different sort of person. Not that I ever intend to do anything so silly; but that is beside the point. Now, Gertrude, are you convinced? By-the-bye, you should apologise for speaking of poor Beauchamp's amiable feelings as an `infatuation,' shouldn't you?" "I didn't mean it in that sense," replied Mrs Eyrecourt, meekly. "I only meant--" "Yes, I know what you meant," interrupted Roma again. "You meant that, as we are both penniless, or very nearly so, and, what is worse, both of us blessed with most luxurious tastes and a supreme contempt for economy, we couldn't do worse than set out on our travels through life together. Of course I quite agree with you. Even if I cared for Beauchamp--which I don't--I know we should be wretched. _I_ couldn't stand it, and I am quite sure he couldn't. The age for that sort of thing is past long ago. Every sensible person must see that, though now and then, in weak moments, one has a sort of hazy regret for it, just as one regrets one's childish belief in fairy tales." She sat silent for a minute or two, looking down absently, idly turning the spoon round and round in her empty cup. Then suddenly she spoke again. "It is very puzzling to know what is best to do," she said, looking up. "Do you know, Gertrude, notwithstanding your repeated injunctions to me to try to snub Beauchamp without letting it come to a regular formal proposal, and all that, I really believe I should, on my own responsibility (it couldn't cause more uncomfortable feeling than the present state of things), have let it come to a crisis and be done with, but for another, a purely unselfish, reason." "What do you mean?" asked Mrs Eyrecourt, looking alarmed. "Just this: I think it possible that his fancy--after all, I am not sure that it is anything but fancy, or whatever you call it--for me, may keep him from something still sillier." "What do you mean?" repeated Gertrude again. "You can't mean that Beauchamp would think of marrying any one still--" She hesitated. "Still less desirable than I?" said Roma, coolly. "Yes--that is exactly what I do mean." "He would never be so foolish!" exclaimed her sister-in-law. "He is too alive to his own interests--too much a man of the world. And think what numberless flirtations he has had! Oh, no, Roma! he would never do anything foolish of that kind, I feel sure."