“I want to, but I probably shall not,” he answered. “When I marry I want to have done something besides having just lived. It seems as if it were due my wife. Besides, when I get married I want to stay married; I don't want any girl to marry _me_ and give her heart to some other fellow. She must have time to be sure of one thing--that I am the right man. That cannot be proven with passionate vows or bouquets or guitar music, but only by sufficient acquaintance. On the other hand, I'd like to know, or think I know, that she is the right girl. If Gwendolyn really wants to marry a count it would be silly for me to try to convince her that I am the better fellow. She must see that for herself. If she doesn't, I should assume that she was right. God knows that I'm not so stuck on myself as to question her judgment. I'm very fond of her, but I have never let her suspect it.” “If I were you I'd begin to arouse her suspicions.” “That I propose to do, but delicately and without any guitar music. Love is a very sacred thing to me.” “And the man who talks much about his love generally hasn't any,” I suggested. “At least, if he has any love in him the cheapest way of showing it is by talk and song.” “It's so awful easy to make words lie,” I agreed. “If she wants me to enter a lying-match with these Romeos I'll agree, but only on condition that it's a lying-match--that we're only playing a game. I won't try to deceive her. Women are not fools or playthings any longer, are they? “Generally not, if they're born in America,” I agreed. Here was the modem American lover, and I must acknowledge that I fell in love with him. He stood for honest loving--a new type of chivalry--and against the lying, romantic twaddle which had come down from the feudal world. That kind of thing had been a proper accessory of courts and concubines. It would not do for America. “I see that I am putting the case in good hands. Go in and win it,” I said. “I'll make it my business while I'm here,” said he. “You're a born business man. I know it's fashionable to hate the word 'business,' but I like it. In love it looks for dividends of happiness.” “And I've observed that a home has got to pay or go out of business,” said he. “If Gwendolyn would put up with me I believe we could stand together to the end of the game.” “I have some reason for saying that she is very fond of you,” I declared. “I wouldn't dare ask you to explain, but you tempt me,” he said. “A good-attorney never tells all he knows unless he is writing a book,” I answered. We had come to the Spanish Stairs, where converging ways poured a thin, noisy fall of tourists and guide-books into the street below. I had seen the Stairs in my youth. And I thought how many thousands Of awe-encumbered men, Each bearing his Hare and Baedeker, Had passed the Stairs since then.