“Not quite.” They strolled on for a minute or two in silence. “There are some people,” said Anthony, breaking the silence, “who don’t conform to the signals. An ordinary well-regulated locomotive slows down or pulls up when it sees the red light hoisted against it. Perhaps I was born colour blind. When I see the red signal—I can’t help forging ahead. And in the end, you know, that spells disaster. Bound to. And quite right really. That sort of thing is bad for traffic generally.” He still spoke very seriously. “I suppose,” said Virginia, “that you have taken a good many risks in your life?” “Pretty nearly every one there is—except marriage.” “That’s rather cynical.” “It wasn’t meant to be. Marriage, the kind of marriage I mean, would be the biggest adventure of the lot.” “I like that,” said Virginia, flushing eagerly. “There’s only one kind of woman I’d want to marry—the kind who is worlds removed from my type of life. What would we do about it? Is she to lead my life, or am I to lead hers?” “If she loved you——” “Sentimentality, Mrs. Revel. You know it is. Love isn’t a drug that you take to blind you to your surroundings—you can make it that, yes, but it’s a pity—love can be a lot more than that. What do you think the King and his beggar maid thought of married life after they’d been married a year or two? Didn’t she regret her rags and her bare feet and her care-free life? You bet she did. Would it have been any good renouncing his Crown for her sake? Not a bit of good, either. He’d have made a damned bad beggar, I’m sure. And no woman respects a man when he’s doing a thing thoroughly badly.” “Have you fallen in love with a beggar maid, Mr. Cade?” inquired Virginia softly. “It’s the other way about with me, but the principle’s the same.” “And there’s no way out?” asked Virginia. “There’s always a way out,” said Anthony gloomily. “I’ve a theory that one can always get anything one wants if one will pay the price. And do you know what the price is, nine times out of ten? Compromise. A beastly thing, compromise, but it steals upon you as you near middle age. It’s stealing upon me now. To get the woman I want I’d—I’d even take up regular work.” Virginia laughed. “I was brought up to a trade, you know,” continued Anthony. “And you abandoned it?” “Yes.” “Why?” “A matter of principle.” “Oh!” “You’re a very unusual woman,” said Anthony suddenly, turning and looking at her. “Why?” “You can refrain from asking questions.” “You mean that I haven’t asked you what your trade was?” “Just that.” Again they walked on in silence. They were nearing the house now, passing close by the scented sweetness of the rose garden. “You understand well enough, I dare say,” said Anthony, breaking the silence. “You know when a man’s in love with you. I don’t suppose you care a hang for me—or for anyone else—but, by God, I’d like to make you care.” “Do you think you could?” asked Virginia, in a low voice.