"But if you didn't believe them, why did you refuse to give me a definite answer?" "Because you'd brought me face to face with new conditions. I wanted to readjust myself to them." "But if you love me---- Do you love me?" he said earnestly. "Yes, Jim," she replied, with a quiet seriousness that carried conviction to him, "I do love you." "Really, love me?" "Really, more than I have loved any man--ever." "But then, how can you doubt?" and he turned impulsively towards her. "You'd better keep both hands on the reins--the pony is only just broken. As I was saying--I love you--in my way--but that's not all, it's merely the beginning. If I only had to meet you for the rest of our lives at afternoon tea and dinner, and we had on our best clothes and our company manners, there would be no question--but you see there are breakfasts and luncheons to be considered. Suppose after our honeymoon was over I was to discover that you wanted to live at West Hempstead, or dined habitually at the National Liberal Club, or wore ready-made suits--it might wreck my life's happiness." Her sincerity had disappeared, and her change in manner grated on him. He was certain she did not mean what she was saying, but he forced a laugh in replying:-- "Diplomats are not allowed to belong to political clubs, in the first place," he said, "and I've been told that well-cut clothes may be met with even at the N. L. C. Besides, if you loved me, it wouldn't really matter." "Ah! But it might, and that's just the point. Either I love _you_, the real, imperfect, human _you_--and nothing else counts--or else I love the Secretary of the ---- Legation, in a frock coat or a dress suit, and everything does count. I've got to determine which. My feminine intuition will tell me that in an instant some day, and then I can answer you." "Let us hope that your feminine intuition will make up its mind to act quickly then, for I must be getting back to London in a few days." "Why?" she cried. "What have you to do?" What indeed, when the canny old messenger the night before had told him that this beautiful girl was the main spring of the conspiracy he was here to crush? He did not believe that, but the whole conversation had revolted him--it was not decent somehow to discuss the most serious things of life flippantly. His face showed his feelings. She was quick to take the cue. "I doubt if you really know yourself," she continued. "Suppose Madame Darcy were unmarried-- I have sometimes thought----" "Suppose the impossible," he interrupted. "Suppose you should decide to drop her husband----" "I wonder," she said, ignoring his petulant outburst, "if you would mind my asking you a very frank question?" "About the Colonel?"