"I haven't any ideal, if that's what you mean. I think it would have to be a man of the world, for conversation so soon gives out with the men of this village. Mr. Fort takes refuge in epigrams. If I married--became engaged to him--I should feel as if I were living on pickles. I think that one reason why Alan Rush and Mr. Howard are so determined to make love to me is because they have nothing left to talk about." "You've told me twice what you don't want, but you don't seem to know what you do. 'A man of the world' is not very definite." "No; he must be capable of falling violently in love with me, and at the same time not make himself ridiculous; to keep his head except when I particularly want him to lose it. Of course I want to inspire a grand passion as well as to feel one, but I don't want to be surrounded by it; and the first time he looked ridiculous would be the last of him as far as I was concerned. I might be in the highest stages of the divine passion, and that would cure me." "Well! is that all? Some men could not be ridiculous if they tried." "You are thinking of Mr. Trennahan, of course. If he did, I do believe you wouldn't see it. But I should; I have a hideous sense of the ridiculous. Well, lemme see. He must have read and travelled and thought a lot, so that he would know more than I, and I could look up to him; also that subjects of conversation would not give out. The platitudes of love! That would be fatal." "I don't believe they ever sound like platitudes." "Hm! I won't undertake to discuss that point, knowing my limitations. What next? He must have suffered. That gives a man weight, as the sculptors say. My quartette will be much more interesting to the next divinity than they are to me. Then of course he must have charming manners and an agreeable voice: I could not stand the brain of a Bismark in the skull of an Apollo if he had a nasal American voice. I believe that's all. I'm not so particular about looks, so long as he's neither small nor fat." "And if you found all that wouldn't you marry it?" "N-o-o--I don't know--but I'd be engaged a good long time. You see I want to be a belle for years and years." "And what is to become of the poor men when you are through with them?" "Oh, they'll get over it. I shall. Why shouldn't they?" "I thought you said once you wanted to marry a statesman." "Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. I'll consider that question ten years hence. I want to be a perfectly famous belle first." "You are that already."