"Rix dear," she answered, "don't you suppose I have thought of that? But I can't do it. There is nothing left in me to go on with. I'm burnt out--deadly tired, wanting nothing more than I shall have by marrying as I must marry. For I shall have you, too, as I have always had you. You said so, didn't you? "What difference, then, does it make to you or me whether or not I am married? "If you were sufficiently equipped to take care of me, and if I married you, I could not give you anything more than I have given already--I would not wish to if I could. All that many other women consider part of love--all that lesser side of it and of marriage I could not give to you or to any man--could not endure; because it is not in me and never has been. It is foreign to me, unpleasant, distasteful--even hateful. "So as I can give you nothing more than I have given or ever shall give, and as you have given me all you can--anyway all I care for in you--let me feel free to seek my worldly salvation and find the quiet and rest and surcease from anxiety which comes only under such circumstances. "You won't think unkindly of me, will you, Rix? I don't know very much; I amount to very little. What ideals I had are dead. Why should anybody bother to agree or disagree with my very unaggressive opinions or criticise harshly a life which has been spent mainly in troubling the world as little as possible? * * * * * "There are a number of people here--among them several friends of Jim Wycherly, all of them aviation-mad. Jim took out the Stinger, smashed the planes and got a fall which was not very serious. Lester Caldera did the same thing to the Kent biplane except that he fell into the river and Sir Charles and Chrysos, in the launch, fished him out--swearing, they say. "Vincent Wier made a fine flight in his Delatour Dragon, sailing 'round and 'round like a big hawk for a quarter of an hour, but the wind came up and he couldn't land, and he finally came down thirty miles north of us in a swamp. "Langly took me for a short flight in his Owlet No. 3--only two miles and not very high, but the sensation was simply horrid. I never even cared for motoring, you see, so the experience left me most unenthusiastic, greatly to Langly's disgust. Really, all I care for is a decently gaited horse--and I prefer to walk him half the time. There is nothing speedy about me, Rix. If I ever had the inclination it's gone now. "To the evident displeasure of Sir Charles, Langly took up Chrysos Lacy; and the child adored it. I believe Sir Charles said something cutting to Langly in his quiet and dry way which has, apparently, infuriated my to-be-affianced, for he never goes near Sir Charles, now, and that cold-eyed gentleman completely ignores him. Which is _not_ very agreeable for me.