Cornelia’s heart stopped its beat. “_I am glad_--I am--no, I can’t be glad.” Sense and will turmoiled against each other. David saw her sitting quiet there, looking at him. It was quite natural, he thought, that she could not understand. He had come to tell her. It came to him: “She must think it funny that I should tell her this. What can it matter to Cornelia?” Cornelia, feeling he would go on and that for this he had come and that himself would tell her what to do, began to go deeper into his coming. He had sought her out: this was rare: for a rare incentive. He had sought her out because he needed to talk about Helen. To no one else could he talk. From no one else could he hope for the persuasion he wanted: to send him back to her. Here was a problem that hurt him. She could smoothe it. For this he had run to her. When she had done her part, he would leave her and go back to Helen, he would live and play once more.... “What is it, Davie?” she asked aloud. She was ready for her part. “I am not--not good enough for her, Cornelia.” Good enough to come to her when she could soothe him: not good enough for Helen.... “How do you know that, David?” “Because I know some one who is.... Conrad Westerling is good enough for Helen. I admire him immensely. I know he loves her. I know it hurts him when I am there. I have seen that. Why should I hurt him, Cornelia?” “But what about Helen Daindrie?” “Why shouldn’t she love him? He is strong, and courageous. He has wonderful ideas. His whole life--I feel that--is nothing but his ideas. She _should_ love him.” “Is there room for Helen in one so full of ideas?” “He loves her, so there must be.” “She does not love him, so perhaps there isn’t.” Cornelia looked at him blushing. “She does not love him, David. What is it to you? Can you make her love him, David, by staying away?” David’s blush was crimson. “I--I don’t mean that. N-no. I--I don’t know what I mean.” He began pulling at his handkerchief with nervous fingers. Cornelia steeled herself.... _Yes she could!_ She laughed at him. “Why you funny person--you funny Quixotic David!” A pause. “Or are you merely awfully conceited? Answer me, then: how will your staying away help the lost cause of Doctor Westerling?” David bit his lip, turned pale, looked at his twitching fingers. “I am a fool, am I not, Cornelia?” “You must go on, seeing Helen. Your staying away _now_ would be offensive. What right have you to fight another man’s battle against Helen? Don’t you see how presumptuous it all is? She knows best what she wants, David darling, not only of Doctor Westerling, but of you also.” “Westerling is a noble man who has worked and done things.” “You will do things also. I won’t let you slight yourself. That’s slighting your friends. If you are good enough for me--and for Helen also?----” she found something near the playful smile she wanted, “must you not be good for something?” “Cornelia, I don’t understand her wanting ever to see me.”