"Ford, I'm no coquette," she said straightforwardly, with a blush for maiden-modesty's sake. "I believe you; absolutely and utterly I believe you. If you had been different at first--if you had made any overtures whatever toward--toward lovemaking, I should have despised you. I never would have loved you in this world! But you didn't. You kept at such a distance that I--I couldn't help thinking about you and studying you. And lately--when I knew you were fighting the--the habit--I loved you for the way you did fight. I was afraid, too. I used to slip into your room every time you left it, and look--and I just ached to help you! But I knew I couldn't do a thing; and that was the hardest part. All I could do was stand back--clear back out of sight, and hope. And--and love you, too, Ford. I'm proud of you! I'm proud to think that I--I love a man that is a man; that doesn't sit down and whine because a fight is hard, or give up and say it's no use. I do despise a moral weakling, Ford. I don't mind what you have been; it's what you are, that counts with me. And you're a man, every inch of you. I'm not a bit afraid you'll weaken. Only," she added half apologetically, "I did want you to give me the--the jug, because I couldn't bear to see you look so worried." She gave his fingers an adorable little squeeze, and flung his hand away from her, and laughed in a way to set his heart pounding heavily in his chest. "Now you know where I stand, Mr. Man," she cried lightly, "so let's say no more about it. I bet I can beat you across this flat!" She laughed again, wrinkled her nose at him impertinently, and was off in a run. [Illustration: "Ford, I'm no coquette," she said straightforwardly.] If she had waited, Ford would have told her. If she had given him a chance, he would have told her afterward; but she did not. She was extremely careful not to let their talk become intimate, after that. She laughed, she raced Hooligan almost to the point of abuse, she chattered about everything under the sun that came into her mind, except their own personal affairs or anything that could possibly lead up to the subject. Ford, for a time, watched for an opening honestly; saw at last the impossibility of telling her--unless indeed he shouted, "Say, I'm a married man!" to her without preface or extenuating explanation--and yielded finally to the reprieve the fates sent him. CHAPTER XVI To Find and Free a Wife