Instantly, and with extraordinary resilience, her mind established a contrast. No woman would have to cajole this shabby, lion-eyed man into admiration of her beauty. Rather she would have to save herself from his onslaught--and then, in her very flying, she would triumph. Louie had found a fool invincible; but this other, when he loved, would go down with the vehemence of his own assault. When Louie had refused to kiss Roy at their parting she had not known exactly why she had done so: she had obeyed an instinct; a chapter had been closed, and had had to be marked as definitely closed; her heart had known no rancour against him. But now!--she might just as well have kissed him. Now, in this strange place, two strange people--or rather one, for the girl mattered nothing--had in a moment, and infinitely, enlarged her sense of what, at any rate to a man, love might mean. In the light of that enlargement any kiss she could have given to Roy would have meant nothing--nothing, nothing. Poor Roy, whom she had had to woo! This other would do his own wooing. Why, he was doing it now---- Then a startling recollection caused Louie to sit suddenly upright. This lion, who had given those looks at that girl--this shabby giant, whose face she had just seen enheavened out of all knowledge--had told young Merridew, who had told Kitty Windus and Miriam Levey, that his heart was set on somebody outside this poky little Business School altogether! Involuntarily Louie drew a long breath of amazement. He had told them that! Then Louie became matter-of-fact. There was one thing and one thing only to be said. If Mr. Jeffries had told him that, Mr. Jeffries had--lied. She turned it over again--she found no flaw in it. Yes, if he had said that, he had lied. Louie pondered. The result of her pondering was that she said slowly to herself: "Ah--this is going to be more than amusing--unless I'm mistaken it might even become dramatic."