“You know that whatever circumstances compel me to do, all my heart is yours, Hal, and you care a little bit about me. You know you do. Don’t condemn me to outer darkness. Come to me like the sensible little woman you are. No one will ever know, and I can make your life gayer and happier just as long as ever you like.” She looked at him with a startled, perplexed expression. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly. “Now, don’t get angry.” He laid his hand on her arm, with a caressing touch. “You’ve knocked about the world too much not to know what I mean. You know perfectly well half the girls you know would let themselves be persuaded. But that isn’t what I want. I’ve too much respect for your strength of character. Come to me because you can be strong enough to rise above conventions and because you dare to be a law unto yourself. It is the courage I expect of you. Hal, my darling, who is ever to be any the wiser if you and I are lovers? Think what I can do for you to make life gay and interesting and fresh. Don’t decide in a hurry. If no one ever knows, no one need be hurt.” She moved away from him, and went and stood by the window, looking down at the passing lights in St. James’s Street; looking at the lights in the windows opposite, looking at the faint light of the stars overhead. It was characteristic of her that she did not grow angry and indignant; nor, in a theatrical spirit, immediately attempt to impress him with the fact that she was a good, virtuous woman, and that his suggestion filled her with horror. Her knowledge of life was too wide, her understanding too deep. She knew that to such a man as he a proposal of this kind did not present any shocking aspect whatever. When he said, “Be a sensible little woman,” he meant it to the letter. He actually believed she would show common sense in yielding to him, and taking what joy out of life she could. But, unfortunately for the world in general, it is not only the horror-struck, conventional, shocked women who resolutely turn their eyes from the primrose path. There are plenty of large-hearted, broad-minded women, who, seeing the world as it is, instead of how the idealists would have it, are content to go on their own strong way, fighting their own battle for themselves without saying anything, and without judging the actions of others, content in striving to live up to their own best selves. Hal was one of these. If another girl in her place had yielded to the alluring prospect of possessing such an interesting lover as Sir Edwin, to brighten the commonplace, daily round, she would not have blamed her, she would have tried not to judge her. But she would have been sorry for her in many ways, knowing how apt the primrose path is to turn suddenly to thorns and stones; and in an hour of need she would have stood by her if she could.