“I am,” I confessed. “I am afraid of you because you inspire in me a feeling that is beyond my control. I've committed many follies in my life--I have moods in which it amuses me to defy fate. But those follies have always been of my own willing. You”--I laughed--“you are a folly for me. But one that compels me.” She smiled--not discouragingly--and seated herself on a tiny sofa in the corner, a curiously impregnable intrenchment, as I noted--for my impulse was to carry her by storm. I was astonished at my own audacity; I was wondering where my fear of her had gone, my awe of her superior fineness and breeding. “Mama will be down in a few minutes,” she said. “I didn't come to see your mother,” replied I. “I came to see you.” She flushed, then froze--and I thought I had once more “got upon” her nerves with my rude directness. How eagerly sensitive our nerves are to bad impressions of one we don't like, and how coarsely insensible to bad impressions of one we do like! [Illustration] “I see I've offended again, as usual,” said I. “You attach so much importance to petty little dancing-master tricks and caperings. You live--always have lived--in an artificial atmosphere. Real things act on you like fresh air on a hothouse flower.” “You are--fresh air?” she inquired, with laughing sarcasm. “I am that,” retorted I. “And good for you--as you'll find when you get used to me.” I heard voices in the next room--her mother's and some man's. We waited until it was evident we were not to be disturbed. As I realized that fact and surmised its meaning, I looked triumphantly at her. She drew further back into her corner, and the almost stern firmness of her contour told me she had set her teeth. “I see you are nerving yourself,” said I with a laugh. “You are perfectly certain I am going to propose to you.” She flamed scarlet and half-started up. “Your mother--in the next room--expects it, too,” I went on, laughing even more disagreeably. “Your parents need money--they have decided to sell you, their only large income-producing asset. And I am willing to buy. What do you say?” I was blocking her way out of the room. She was standing, her breath coming fast, her eyes blazing. “You are--_frightful_!” she exclaimed in a low voice. “Because I am frank, because I am honest? Because I want to put things on a sound basis? I suppose, if I came lying and pretending, and let you lie and pretend, and let your parents and Sam lie and pretend, you would find me--almost tolerable. Well, I'm not that kind. When there's no especial reason one way or the other, I'm willing to smirk and grimace and dodder and drivel, like the rest of your friends, those ladies and gentlemen. But when there's business to be transacted, I am business-like. Let's not begin with your thinking you are deceiving me, and so hating me and despising me and trying to keep up the deception. Let's begin right.”