"Why? Because she is far too sweet and too sensible to die an old maid." "She is very happy," I said. "Relatively happy, perhaps." "Are you so convinced that every one should marry?" "Oh no, not every one; but certainly Miss Wynne." "But you don't know her!" I said. "Know her! Of course I do. I saw her at the theatre." "Only for a moment." "Well, that's the way to see people. I never need to see any one twice to know them. My first impressions are always right. Sometimes I go back on my first impressions, but it is always a mistake to do so." "And looking at her like that, you saw that she wanted to marry?" "Certainly. It is fearfully plain to any one but a selfish uncle. What a pity," she added after a pause, "that you are her uncle." My heart beat horribly. "But I'm not," I said. "Not her uncle?" said Azure. "I thought you were. What are you then?" I told her that Mrs. Wynne was my step-sister. She said nothing for quite a long while, and I tried to think of something entirely different to say, but could not. All I could say was, "To change the subject a little, how is it that you, with such belief in marriage..." "Oh, I'm not a marrying woman," she said. "I have no courage to face a loss of liberty. I must be my own mistress." "As you would always be," I said. "I daren't risk it," she replied. "And yet, ..." I said. "Oh yes, I know what you mean. I have been engaged, and I let myself be run after. It's quite true, but I can't help it. I get so fond of them, and they are so nice to me; but they will spoil it all. It's all rubbish to say that marriages are made in heaven; they're not. It is courtship that is made in heaven. The dreadful thing about marriage to me is that it means the end of the engagement. The engagement is so beautiful: people are so kind to such, so understanding and sympathetic and generous and patient. And then they marry and everything is over." "And yet you want Naomi to marry." "Oh, Naomi is different. Naomi is a born wife; I am a born _fiancée_. Naomi would not see half the things I did. Naomi would love her husband all the more because he was ill; I should hate him. Naomi would love to have babies; I should be terrified and ashamed." "I am afraid you are a bad citizen," I said. "Very," she replied; "but I have the honesty to admit it; and I spend a lot of time trying to get good citizenship into others." She smiled with adorable mischief. "Well," I said, "here we have been talking for an hour, and what have we done? You invited me to come and tell you about Venice, and I have not mentioned the place; nor have you asked me to. All we have talked about is other persons' lives."