“You’d throw me over? Thanks, awfully! Do you imagine that if I became a prince it would make any difference to you?” “Ah, but you’d raise me to your level, any way. I couldn’t raise you.” “No, indeed, and I’m thankful for it. But don’t let us bother about such nonsense, Fay. You’re no more likely to be a princess than I am to be a prince, so why not recognise the fact and withdraw gracefully, instead of wearing yourself to death worrying about it?” “Because I don’t feel like acting that way,” said Félicia obstinately. “Well, supposing they did acknowledge me, and we had to break off our engagement, what would you do?” “What other men do when they’re jilted, I imagine--grin and bear it.” “Would the world become a blank to you? Would you never believe in a woman again?” “I should never believe in you again, certainly. But other women--why, there’d be the mater and Phil just the same. Why shouldn’t I believe in them?” “Well, you might say you wouldn’t, any way,” pouted Félicia. “Look here,” said Usk. “You said you wanted to be amused, and I hope you are. All this sort of stuff doesn’t amuse me at all. Let’s come out.” “No, thanks. I’m awfully interested, analysing you. I do wish you were different--sort of imperious, you know, so’s I daren’t disobey you. I’d love to be made to feel that I just had to do whatever you wanted, and there was no choice about loving you or anything. It would save so much trouble.” “I’m sorry, for your sake, that I’m not that kind of man. I never met one, but I’ve read about them in books. Seems to me you’d have a cheerful time--especially when you wanted to disobey him, and didn’t dare to.” “I guess it would be better than this, any way. I can’t think why things should be so horrid. I just want to have a good time, that’s all, and every single thing seems to conspire to prevent it. It’s real hateful!” and Félicia broke into genuine sobs. Usk’s first impulse was to walk away, but he restrained it and stood awkwardly by. His own temper was considerably ruffled by this time, and he was not disposed to blame himself for Félicia’s tears, but her sobs became more and more vehement, and he cast his injured dignity to the winds. “Don’t, Fay, don’t!” he entreated, kneeling down beside her. “I was a brute to say what I did. I didn’t mean it--whatever it was; at least, I didn’t mean you to take it like this. It was my fault, I know. What was it I said that hurt your feelings? You know I didn’t mean it. Oh, do stop. Here’s your Maimie coming, and she’ll be sure to say I made you cry, and I don’t know what I could have said.” But Félicia sobbed on, and Maimie glared at Usk as she came up.