Something of this she expressed to James the evening of the day of the accident, watching him through half-shuttered eyes to see how he would take her first concession that she was considering him. He took without external disturbance her gay, embarrassed suggestion, the manner of which might mean either shyness or the highest expression of her art. “I'd kidnap you fast enough except that I don't want to rob you of the fun of getting ready. How long will it take you? Would my birthday be too soon? It's on the fourth of June.” “Too soon for what?” she asked innocently. “For my birthday present--Valencia Powers.” She liked it that he used her maiden surname instead of her married one. It seemed to imply that he loved her in the swift, ardent way of youth. “Are you sure you want it?” The lawyer appreciated her soft, warm allurement, the appeal of sex with which she was so prodigally endowed. His breath came a little faster. “He won't be happy till he gets it.” Her faint laughter rippled out. “That's just the point, my friend. Will he be happy then? And, which is more important to her, will she?” “That's what I'm here to see. I'm going to make you happy.” She laced her fingers behind her tawny head, not quite unaware perhaps that the attitude set off the perfect modeling of her soft, supple body. “I don't doubt your good intentions, but it takes more than that to make marriage happy when the contracting parties are not Heaven-sent.” “But we are--we are.” Valencia shook her head. “Oh, no! There will be no rapturous song of birds for us, none of that fine wantonness that doesn't stop to count the cost. If we marry no doubt we'll have good reasons, but not the very best one--that we can't help it.” He would not consent to that. “You're not speaking for me. The birds sing, Valencia.” “Canaries in a cage,” she mocked. “You've forgotten two things.” “Yes?” “That you are the most beautiful woman on earth, and that I'm a man, with red blood in my veins.” Under lowered lids she studied him. This very confident, alert American, modern from head to heel, attracted her more than any other man. There was a dynamic quality in him that stirred her blood. He was efficient, selfish enough to win, and yet considerate in the small things that go to make up the sum of existence. Why not then? She must marry some time and she was as nearly in love as she would ever be. “What ARE your reasons for wanting me?” “We smoke the same Egyptians,” he mocked. “That's a good reason, so far as it goes.” “And you're such a charming puzzle that I would like to domesticate it and study the eternal mystery at my leisure.” “Then it's as a diversion that you want me.” “A thing of beauty and a joy forever, the poet puts it. But diversion if you like. What greater test of charming versatility for a woman than that she remain a diversion to her husband, unstaled by custom and undulled by familiarity?”