"And it is just possible," suggested May, "that a protracted conversation with the lady might have had the effect of destroying the romance." Here Boreham felt a wave of fear and hope and necessity surge through his whole being. The moment had arrived! "Not if you were the lady," he said in a convinced tone. May still gazed down the street, etherealised beyond its usual beauty in this thin pale light. "I don't think any man, however magnanimous, could stand a woman long if she made protracted lamentations after the manner of Jeremiah," she said. "You are purposely speaking ill of yourself," said Boreham. "Yet, whatever you do or say makes a man fall in love with you." He was finding words now without having to think. "I was not aware of it," said May, rather coldly. "It is true," he persisted. "You are different from other women; you are the only woman I have ever met whom I wanted to marry." It was out! Not as well put as he would have liked, but it was out. Here was a proposal of marriage by word of mouth. Here was the orthodox woman's definite opportunity. May would see the seriousness of it now. "As a personal friend of yours," said May, and her tone was not as serious as he had feverishly hoped, "I do not think you are consulting your own interests at this moment, Mr. Boreham." "No!" began Boreham. "Not mine exclusively----" "Your remark was hasty--ill considered," she said, interrupting him. "You don't really want to marry. You would find it an irksome bondage, probably dull as well as irksome." "Not with you!" exclaimed Boreham, and he touched her arm. May's arm became miraculously hard and unsympathetic. "Marriage is a great responsibility," she said. "I have thought that all out," said Boreham. "There may be----" "Then you know," she replied, "that it means----" "I have calculated the cost," he said. "I am willing----" "You have not only to save your own soul but to help some one else to save theirs," she went on. "You have to exercise justice and mercy. You have to forgive every day of your life, and"--she added--"to be forgiven. Wouldn't that bore you?" Boreham's heart thumped with consternation. It might take months to make her take a reasonable view of marriage. She was more difficult than he had anticipated. "Marriage is a dreary business," continued May, "unless you go into it with much prayer and fasting--Jeremiah again." Into Boreham's consternation broke a sudden anger. "That is why," continued May, "Herod ordered Mariamne to be beheaded, and why the young woman who married the 'beloved disciple' said she couldn't realise her true self and went off with Judas Iscariot." May turned round and looked at him as she spoke. "I was serious!" burst out Boreham. "Not more serious than I am," said May; "I am serious enough to treat the subject you have introduced with the fearless criticism you consider right to apply to all important subjects. You ought to approve!"