"I know it, and I'm going to do it. But I don't know just how. You see, Nan, he is so persistent,--and in such a nice, kind way. When I tell him that, he'll only say that he won't consider it final, and we'll wait and see. Then the argument begins all over again." "And so, I tell you, at the risk of repeating myself, that you must make up your own mind positively first; then, if an adverse decision, you must tell him, so positively that he can't misunderstand. _Then_, if he refuses to give up all hope, it isn't your fault." "That's good, sound talk, Nan, and I will try to do just as you say. But--well, here's the thing in a nutshell. I like Phil so much that I hate to tell him I can't love him." "Then get that out of the nutshell, and put this in. If you like him so much, it's your duty to tell him you can't love him. Heavens, Patty, have you no idea of other people's rights?" "I don't believe I have, Nan. I'm a spoiled child, I admit it. You and Dad spoil me, and all my friends do, too. I'm made to believe that the sun rises and sets in silly little Patty Fairfield, and it has made me a vain, conceited, selfish, insufferable _Pig_! That's what it has done!" "Oh, Patty, you little idiot! Nothing of the sort. You're,--since you doubtless meant to be contradicted,--you're a dear thing, and there isn't a selfish bone in your body. If people adore you, it's because of your sunny, sweet nature, and your absolute thoughtfulness and kindness to others. Don't be foolish _that_ way. But regarding this matter of Philip, I know you see it as I do. And it's really your kind heart and your dislike of hurting anybody's feelings that makes you hate so to tell him what you must tell him." "Yes, Nan, I must tell him. I know it myself. I know that I like him lots, and I'd be awfully sorry not to be friends with him, but I don't want to marry him." "Do you want to marry anybody else?" "I hardly know how to answer that. I suppose every girl would rather be married than not, if it's to just the right man. But one thing is certain, Philip isn't the right man." Patty sighed, and the far-away look in her eyes made Nan wonder if there was a "right man" whose image was enshrined in the girl's heart. But she only said, "Then, dear, tell him so." "I will," said Patty, but she looked very serious and troubled over it. However, she did tell him so. When Van Reypen called that evening Patty answered his plea with a decisive No. She was very gentle and kindly, but she gave him no ray of hope, no suggestion of a change of decision. Philip took it gravely, but was unwilling to admit it was final. He knew from Patty's demeanour that she meant it to be, but he hoped he could yet win her by further devotion and patience. She told him this was impossible, but he only smiled and expressed his determination to try it.