“I told you this afternoon that I thought most women did cling to protection and support.” “Not the women we may want. You don’t want the things I have to offer.” His tones had hardly raised. In her first moment of embarrassment Margaret fumbled for words but he went on in that same quiet tone. “I thought it was as well to be frank with you. I couldn’t see that I would gain anything by conventionalities of courtship. And I’m a little old to indulge in certain forms of wooing anyhow. I have never seen any woman I wanted to marry so much. I like your mind. And I mention it first because it is the thing which matters least. I like more than that the way you smile. I would always have the greatest enjoyment from you as a woman of intellect. But the real reason I want you to marry me is because you are a woman of flesh and blood--and all that that means.” She had flushed a little and as he ended in that controlled way, though for all his control he could not conceal the huskiness in his voice, she leaned forward a little to him, as if in sympathy. But she did not speak. Her eyes fell away from his. “I care for you just as all men have a way of caring for women, Margaret--I love you very much.” “I’m a very poor person to love,” she answered, slowly. “You’re a wonderful person to love. Do you think you could care for me--ever? After you’d trained me a bit?” “I like you to talk to--to be with as much as any one I’ve ever known,” she said at last. “We’ve had a great deal of sympathy for each other. Of course I guessed you liked me. I rather hoped you wouldn’t love me. Because”--and curiously enough her voice dropped as if in shame, almost to a whisper--“I’m so cold, Walter. I don’t feel things like most women.” “Let’s get out of here,” said Walter, rising abruptly. But he was unlucky. At the very door they were hailed by a passing automobile and discovered the Flandons, Jerrold Haynes and three other people, had seen them. They were invited to come along to the theater where there were a couple of vacant seats in the boxes the Flandons had taken. It seemed ridiculous to refuse. The play was conspicuously good, it was too cold a night for driving and they all knew that Margaret had no home to which they were going. So, unwillingly, Walter found himself made part of the larger group. For the rest of the evening he heard Margaret arguing with Gage, whom Walter noted, seemed very bitter on the matter of his wife’s discussed entry into politics. He heard Helen say, suddenly and very quietly, after some rather blustering declaration of Gage’s, “If the women want me, I shall go, Gage.” Walter was conscious that there seemed an altercation beneath the surface, that the geniality of relation between Helen and Gage was lessened. For a few minutes he thought Helen was flirting rather badly with that ass of a Jerrold Haynes. As he took Margaret home she talked at length of sending Helen to the Convention.