"'All the world's a stage,'" she quoted, letting her upraised arms fall languidly at her sides--"And ours is a real comedy! Not 'As You Like It' but 'As You Don't Like It!' Poor Shakespeare!--he never imagined such characters as we are! Now, suppose you had satisfied the expectations of all Washington City and married me, of course we should have bored each other dreadfully--but with plenty of money we could have run away from each other whenever we liked--they all do it nowadays!" "Yes--they all do it!" he repeated, mechanically. "They don't 'love' you know!" she went on--"Love is too much of a bore. YOU would find it so!" "I should, indeed!" he said, with sudden energy--"It would be worse than any imaginable torture!--to be 'loved' and looked after, and watched and coddled and kissed--" "Oh, surely no woman would want to kiss you!" she exclaimed--"Never! THAT would be too much of a good thing!" And she gave a little peal of laughter, merry as the lilt of a sky-lark in the dawn. He stared at her angrily, moved by an insensate desire to seize her and throw her down the hill like a bundle of rubbish. "To kiss YOU," she said, "one would have to wear a lip-shield of leather! As well kiss a bunch of nettles! No, no! I have quite a nice little mouth--soft and rosy! I shouldn't like to spoil it by scratching it against yours! It's curious how all men imagine women LIKE to kiss them! They never grasp an idea of the frequent unpleasantness of the operation! Now I'm going!" "Thank God!" he ejaculated fervently. "And don't worry yourself"--she continued, airily--"I shall not stay long at the Plaza." "Thank God again!" he interpolated. "It would be too dull,--especially as I'm not shamming to be ill, like you. Besides, I have work to do!--wonderful work! and I don't believe in doing it shut up like a hermit. Humanity is my crucible! Good-night,--good-bye!" He checked her movement by a quick, imperious gesture. "Wait!" he said--"Before you go I want you to know a bit of my mind--" "Is it necessary?" she queried. "I think so," he answered--"It will save you the trouble of ever trying to see me again, which will be a relief to me, if not to you. Listen!--and look at yourself with MY eyes--" "Too difficult!" she declared--"I can look at nothing with your eyes any more than you can with mine!" "Madam--" She uttered a little laughing "Oh!" and put her hand to her ears. "Not 'Madam' for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed; "It sounds as if I were either a queen or a dressmaker!" His sombre eyes had no smile in them. "How should you be addressed?" he demanded, "A woman of such wealth and independence as you possess can hardly be called 'Miss' as if she were in parental leading-strings!" She looked up at the clear dark sky where the moon hung like a huge silver air-ball. "No, I suppose not!" she replied--"The old English word was 'Mistress.' So quaint and pretty, don't you think?"