"And--I don't know how to put it, quite--she thinks that if he ever thought about it at all he might care for her; because he doesn't care for anybody else, and she's pretty--" "You said that before." "Oh dear, I dare say I did. And most men care for somebody, don't they? Some girl, I mean." "Most men, no doubt," conceded the philosopher. "Well then, what ought she to do? It's not a real thing, you know, Mr. Jerningham. It's in --in a novel I was reading." She said this hastily, and blushed as she spoke. "Dear me! And it's quite an interesting case! Yes, I see. The question is, Will she act most wisely in accepting the offer of the man who loves her exceedingly, but for whom she entertains only a moderate affection--" "Yes; just a liking. He's just a friend." "Exactly. Or in marrying the other whom she loves ex--" "That's not it. How can she marry him? He hasn't--he hasn't asked her, you see." "True; I forgot. Let us assume, though, for the moment, that he has asked her. She would then have to consider which marriage would probably be productive of the greater sum total of--" "Oh, but you needn't consider that." "But it seems the best logical order. We can afterward make allowance for the element of uncertainty caused by--" "Oh no; I don't want it like that. I know perfectly well which she'd do if he--the other man you know--asked her." "You apprehend that--" "Never mind what I 'apprehend.' Take it as I told you." "Very good. A has asked her hand, B has not." "Yes." "May I take it that, but for the disturbing influence of B, A would be a satisfactory--er--candidate?" "Ye--es; I think so." "She therefore enjoys a certainty of considerable happiness if she marries A?" "Ye--es; not perfect, because of--B, you know." "Quite so, quite so; but still a fair amount of happiness. Is it not so?" "I don't--well, perhaps." "On the other hand, if B did ask her, we are to postulate a higher degree of happiness for her?" "Yes, please, Mr. Jerningham--much higher." "For both of them?" "For her. Never mind him." "Very well. That again simplifies the problem. But his asking her is a contingency only?" "Yes, that's all." The philosopher spread out his hands. "My dear young lady," he said, "it becomes a question of degree. How probable or improbable is it?" "I don't know; not very probable--unless--" "Well?" "Unless he did happen to notice, you know." "Ah, yes; we supposed that, if he thought of it, he would probably take the desired step--at least, that he might be led to do so. Could she not--er--indicate her preference?" "She might try--no, she couldn't do much. You see, he--he doesn't think about such things." "I understand precisely. And it seems to me, Miss May, that in that very fact we find our solution." "Do we?" she asked.