Now, when I would have kissed her, she turned her head aside. "Peter." "Yes, Charmian?" "The Lady Sophia Sefton never did gallop her horse up the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral." "Didn't she, Charmian?" "And she couldn't help her name being bandied from mouth to mouth, or 'hiccoughed out over slopping wineglasses,' could she?" "No," said I, frowning; "what a young fool I was!" "And, Peter—" "Well, Charmian?" "She never was—and never will be—buxom, or strapping—will she? 'buxom' is such a—hateful word, Peter! And you—love her?—wait, Peter—as much as ever you loved Charmian Brown?" "Yes," said I; "yes—" "And—nearly as much as—your dream woman?" "More—much more, because you are the embodiment of all my dreams—you always will be Charmian. Because I honor you for your intellect; and worship you for your gentleness, and spotless purity; and love you with all my strength for your warm, sweet womanhood; and because you are so strong, and beautiful, and proud—" "And because, Peter, because I am—just—your loving—Humble Person." And thus it was I went forth a fool, and toiled and suffered and loved, and, in the end, got me some little wisdom. And thus did I, all unworthy as I am, win the heart of a noble woman whose love I pray will endure, even as mine will, when we shall have journeyed to the end of this Broad Highway, which is Life, and into the mystery of the Beyond.