We know each other too well for that. It
would never do."

"But when I tell you that I love you," he said quietly, with his voice
well in control.

"I did not know that the word was in your vocabulary--you, a diplomat."

"And a man--you put the word there--Etta."

The hand-screen was raised for a moment in objection--presumably to the
Christian name of which he had made use.

He waited; passivity was one of his strong points. It had frightened men
before this.

Then, with a graceful movement, she swung suddenly round in her chair,
looking up at him. She broke into a merry laugh.

"I believe you are actually in earnest!" she cried.

He looked quietly down into her face without moving a muscle in response
to her change of humor.

"Very clever," he said.

"What?" she asked, still smiling.

"The attitude, the voice, every thing. You have known all along that I
am in earnest, you have known it for the last six months. You have seen
me often enough when I was--well, not in earnest, to know the
difference."

Etta rose quickly. It was some lightning-like woman's instinct that made
her do so. Standing, she was taller than M. de Chauxville.

"Do not let us be tragic," she said coldly. "You have asked me to marry
you; why, I don't know. The reason will probably transpire later. I
appreciate the honor, but I beg to decline it. Et voila tout. All is
said."

He spread out apologetic hands.

"All is not said," he corrected, with a dangerous suavity. "I
acknowledge the claim enjoyed by your sex to the last word. In this
matter, however, I am inclined to deny it to the individual."

Etta Sydney Bamborough smiled. She leaned against the mantelpiece, with
her chin resting on her curved fingers. The attitude was eminently
calculated to show to full advantage a faultless figure. She evidently
had no desire to cheapen that which she would deny. She shrugged her
shoulders and waited.

De Chauxville was vain, but he was clever enough to conceal his vanity.
He was hurt, but he was man enough to hide it. Under the passivity which
was his by nature and practice, he had learned to think very quickly.
But now he was at a disadvantage. He was unnerved by his love for
Etta--by the sight of Etta before him daringly, audaciously
beautiful--by the thought that she might never be his.

"It is not only that I love you," he said, "that I have a certain
position to offer you. These I beg you to take at their poor value. But
there ar