He probed it. "Suppose I should get up and kiss you." She awoke suddenly. "You see what I mean now?" he continued. "You exploded a new cell then. You gained a new point of view with regard to me. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to kiss you." "Indeed, you’re not!" Her alarm subsided; her resentment, rising to an equal level, was drawn off in a smile at the absurdity of the discussion. He went on: "But you must acknowledge that I have, at least, produced a psychological condition. I’m going to use that new cell again." He waited for her answer. "Dear me!" she exclaimed at last. "We’re getting very far away from the lamp-posts. I’m quite in the dark." He proceeded: "My character is lighted by four thousand lamp-posts also." "Ah, I see! You want me to regard them as botanical facts. I, as a supposititious Martian, with this wonderful new cell, am to perceive in you something that is not true?" "No, for in Mars, the lamp-posts, we will suppose, _are_ vegetables—not mechanical objects." "A little more light from the lamp-posts, please." "They are emotions, alive and growing. They have heat as well as light, in spite of their subtleties. I want you to perceive the fact that my methodical nature shows that I have a determined, potent stimulus—that I have energy—that I am in earnest." She seemed to sniff the danger now and stood at gaze. He went on: "I shall keep at the attempt until you do look at me in this way—till I’ve educated these dormant cells." "If you are leading up to another proposal," Clytie said, "I must say I admire your devotion to method, but it is time thrown away." He took this calmly enough. He took everything calmly; but he did not abate his persistence. "I’m not leading up to a proposal so much as I am to an acceptance." Clytie shrugged her shoulders. "You’ll be telling me you’re in love with me next." "Do you doubt it?" "A half-dozen proposals have not convinced me." "Seven," he corrected. "This is the eighth." "How long do you intend to keep it up?" "Until I produce in your mind a psychological condition which will convince you that I’m in earnest, that I am sincere, that I am the man for you. Then I shall produce an emotional reflex—it’s sure to follow. It may come to-night and it may come next year. Sooner or later circumstances will bring about this crystallization. Some shock may help; it may be a simple growth. I am sure to win you in the long run. I’m bound to have you, and I will, if I have to make a hundred attempts. You can’t dismiss me, for I’m an old friend and you need me. I have educated you, I have broadened your horizon. You see, I am playing with my cards on the table." "But without trumps." Clytie stifled a yawn. "Meaning, I suppose, that I have no heart? Clubs may do. I rely upon your atavism." "I suppose you have as much heart as can be made out of brain." "What if I say that I’m jealous? Will that prove that I have a heart?"