Charmian Reemy opened her eyes and stole a quick glance at him. The colour in her face was heightened only a little; and, though her heart may have beat a little faster, she was not greatly confused. But a feeling of triumph glowed warm within her. That she, by the not consciously exercised force of her personality and feminine charm, had intrigued this man of big achievements into a proposal of marriage was thrilling. He was so desperately in earnest that his homely face was transfigured. Facial ugliness she saw only in the light of great strength. His broad smile was winning, tolerant, unutterably tender. His eyes were kind, whimsical, wistful; and there was in them now a lustre that she never had seen glowing there before. Inman Shonto was not ugly now. The great soul of the man had enthroned itself in his countenance. The effect was spellbinding. Charmian had told herself that, if ever she married again, she would marry a big man, a man of accomplishment. Her husband had been a big man in his small way. He had been a money-maker, a George F. Babbitt, but the girl-wife had not been able to interest herself in his activities. He had created nothing, discovered nothing, added nothing to the knowledge or welfare of the race. Walter J. Reemy had been commonplace in every way--a man whose commonplace mind followed a daily routine of commonplaceness. “You and I, Charmian,” the doctor was saying while she dreamed, “can make our life together an ideal one. Won’t you even consider it?” She had closed her eyes again, but now she opened them and smiled at him half bashfully. “I am considering it,” she said. Shonto grasped her hand with eagerness and pressed it. “Thank heaven for that encouragement,” he whispered fervently. “But--but could I ever understand you?” asked Charmian. “I’m nothing--nobody--a dreamer. They say that I am pretty. If so, isn’t it merely that which has attracted you to me, Doctor? If we were married, wouldn’t you shut yourself away from me, treat me generously and courteously and devotedly, but at the same time never take me into your confidence? Don’t you want me merely as an ornament for the mantle of your success?” “Why should that be, Charmian?” “Haven’t you already declined to take me into your confidence about your work--about the glands? I didn’t ask much, did I? I wasn’t trying to pry into your secrets--the mysteries of your profession. I was just looking for a little enlightenment on a subject that has interested me ever since it was brought to the attention of the general public. And you shut up like a clam.” Shonto’s face showed troubled lines.