"But listen to me just the same. There comes a time in the affairs of a girl when the love-bee gets a buzzing with a very loud hum in her pretty noddle. Then is the time she mustn't make a mistake and start in loving the wrong man. You haven't fallen in love with Evan Graham yet, and all you have to do is just not to fall in love with him. He's not for you, nor for any young thing. He's an oldster, an ancient, and possibly has forgotten more about love, romantic love, and young things, than you'll ever learn in a dozen lives. If he ever marries again--" "Again!" Ernestine broke in. "Why, he's been a widower, my dear, for over fifteen years." "Then what of it?" she demanded defiantly. "Just this," Dick continued quietly. "He's lived the young-thing romance, and lived it wonderfully; and, from the fact that in fifteen years he has not married again, means--" "That he's never recovered from his loss?" Ernestine interpolated. "But that's no proof--" "--Means that he's got over his apprenticeship to wild young romance," Dick held on steadily. "All you have to do is look at him and realize that he has not lacked opportunities, and that, on occasion, some very fine women, real wise women, mature women, have given him foot-races that tested his wind and endurance. But so far they've not succeeded in catching him. And as for young things, you know how filled the world is with them for a man like him. Think it over, and just keep your heart-thoughts away from him. If you don't let your heart start to warm toward him, it will save your heart from a grievous chill later on." He took one of her hands in his, and drew her against him, an arm soothingly about her shoulder. For several minutes of silence Dick idly speculated on what her thoughts might be. "You know, we hard-bitten old fellows--" he began half-apologetically, half-humorously. But she made a restless movement of distaste, and cried out: "Are the only ones worth while! The young men are all youngsters, and that's what's the matter with them. They're full of life, and coltish spirits, and dance, and song. But they're not serious. They're not big. They're not--oh, they don't give a girl that sense of all-wiseness, of proven strength, of, of... well, of manhood." "I understand," Dick murmured. "But please do not forget to glance at the other side of the shield. You glowing young creatures of women must affect the old fellows in precisely similar ways. They may look on you as toys, playthings, delightful things to whom to teach a few fine foolishnesses, but not as comrades, not as equals, not as sharers--full sharers. Life is something to be learned. They have learned it... some of it. But young things like you, Ernestine, have you learned any of it yet?" "Tell me," she asked abruptly, almost tragically, "about this wild young romance, about this young thing when he was young, fifteen years ago."