Mr. Donald Estey was flattered, amused, and curiously interested. Not that what looked to be a determined assault upon his heart was exactly a new experience for him; but that the circumstances in this case were so out of the ordinary, and that he was still trying to "place" this young woman. He was not sure even, always, that she was trying to make a bid for his affections. He was not sure, either, of his own mind regarding her. In spite of his interest, he was conscious, sometimes, of a distinct feeling of aversion toward her. She was not always, to his mind, quite--the lady, though she was improving in that respect. (Even in his thoughts the word gave him a shock: he could hardly imagine a candidate for the position of Mrs. Donald Estey in need of--improvement!) But she was beautiful, and there was something wonderfully alluring in her eager way of listening to his every word. She was, indeed, not a little refreshing after the languid conservatism of some of the sophisticated young women one usually found at these country houses. Besides, was she, after all, really in love with him? Very likely she was not. At all events, it could do no harm--this mild flirtation--if flirtation it were! He would not worry about it. Plenty of time yet to--to withdraw. He had but to receive (apparently) a summoning message, and he could go at once. That would, of course, end the affair. Meanwhile-- But just exactly what type of woman was she, anyway? Still amused, interested, and contentedly secure, therefore, Mr. Donald Estey pursued for another week his pleasant pastime of finding just the proper pigeonhole for this tantalizing will-o'-the-wisp of femininity; then, sharply, he received a jolt that left him figuratively--almost literally--breathless and gasping. They were talking of marriage. "But you yourself have never married," she said. "No, I have never married." "I wonder why." Mr. Donald Estey frowned and stirred restlessly--there were times when Mrs. Darling's unconventionality was not "refreshing." "Perhaps--the right girl has never found me," he shrugged. "Oh, Mr. Estey, please, what sort of a girl would be the right one--for you?" "Well, really--er--" He stopped and stirred again uneasily--there was an almost frenzied earnestness in her face and manner that was somewhat disconcerting. "That might be hard telling," he evaded banteringly. "But you _could_ tell me, Mr. Estey. I know you could. And, oh, won't you, please?" "Why, er--Mrs. Darling!" He gave an embarrassed laugh as he sought for just the right word to say. "You seem--er--extraordinarily interested." He laughed again--to hide the fact that he knew that he had said just the _wrong_ thing. "I am interested. Indeed, Mr. Estey, it would mean--you cannot know what it would mean--if you'd tell me." "Why--er--really--"