He drew a long breath, in a manner which made the sofa tremble; and Dolly suddenly realised the height and depth of the barrier of reserve and pride that this grave and undemonstrative man had had to break down before he could offer her the view of his inmost soul to which he considered that she was entitled. She felt a sudden pang of awe, mingled with compassionate sympathy. She was not given to wearing her heart on her sleeve herself. "Well," continued Robin, evidently relieved by this little confession, "those are my assets. On the other hand, I have no money, no position--I will not say no birth, for I come of good, honest stock--and my prospects are at present in the clouds. But to one type of wife all that would not matter a scrap. There are two types, you know--two types of _good_ wife, that is." "I would have given worlds," says Dolly here, "just to have said 'Oh!' or something; but for the life of me I couldn't help asking what the two types were." "The first," said Robin, "is the wife who loves her husband because she is proud of him, because he is successful and powerful, and people admire him; and not because she has any conception of or sympathy with the qualities which have made him what he is. To such a one the husband must come with his reputation ready made, and they will enjoy it together. The other type loves her husband because she sees through him, yet believes in him and sympathises with his aims, and intends to make a success of him. And she usually does." "And which am I?" inquired Dolly. "The latter, undoubtedly--the higher type. And therefore, if there had been nothing else in the way, I think I should have given myself the benefit of the doubt. But----" "He turned and looked at me here," writes Dolly, and said-- "'But your feminine instinct is chafing against all this laborious weighing of pros and cons. In your own mind you summed up the situation ten minutes ago. I am--"impossible." Isn't that it?' "My _dear_, I nearly _screamed_, for of course that is just what was in my mind. But I couldn't very well say so, so I just sat there and looked rather idiotic and he went on-- "'In other words, I am not quite a gentleman.' "Then I said quite suddenly-- "'Robin, whatever else you may be, you _are_ a gentleman.'