"Little American girl," Collier Pratt said, "little American girl, don't you understand that there is only one way for a woman to think or feel about a _man_ like _me_? I have had my life, and I haven't liked it much. I'm to be loved warmly and lightly till the flesh and blood prince comes along, but I'm never to be mistaken for him." "I don't believe you're sincere," Nancy cried; "women must have loved you deeply, tragically, and have suffered all the torture there is, at losing you." "That may be. Sincerity is a matter of so many connotations. You haven't known many artists, my dear." "No," said Nancy. "No, but I thought they were the same as other men, only worthier." "How should they be? He who perceives a merit is not necessarily he who achieves it. Else the world would be a little more one-sided than it is." "I can't believe those things," Nancy said. "I want to believe in you. You _must_ care for me, and what becomes of me. You have known so long what I was like, and what I was made for. All this seems like a terrible nightmare. I want you to tell me what it is you want of me, and let me give it to you." "I am proving some faint shadow of worthiness at least, when I say to you that I want absolutely nothing of you. I love, but I refrain." "You love," Nancy cried, "you _love_?" "Not as you understand loving, I am afraid. In my own way I love you." "I don't like your way, then," Nancy said wearily. "We're both so poor, little girl,--that's one thing. If I were free and could overcome my prejudice against matrimony, and could be a little surer of my own heart and its constancy,--even then, don't you see, practical considerations would and ought to stand in our way. I couldn't support you, you couldn't possibly support me." "I see," said Nancy. "Would you marry me If I were rich?" she said slowly. "I already have one wife," Collier Pratt smiled. Nancy remembered afterward that he smiled oftener during this interview than at any other. "But if somebody died, and left you a million, she might possibly be disposed of." For one moment, perhaps, his fate hung in the balance. Then he took a step forward. "Kiss me good night, dear," he said, "and let us end this bitter and fruitless discussion." "Kiss you good night," Nancy cried. "Kiss you good night. Oh! how dare you!--How dare you?" And she struck him twice across his mouth. "I wish I could kill you," she blazed. "Oh! how dare you,--how dare you?" "Oh! very well," said Collier Pratt calmly, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. "If that's the way you feel--then our pleasant little acquaintanceship is ended. I'll take my hat and stick and my child--and go." "Your child?" Nancy cried aghast. "You wouldn't take Sheila away from me."