such a lot to make me
happy--all there is, in fact--and poor darling Willie hasn't got all
there is. He's the sort of man I should like to marry when I am
forty-three. Do you know what I mean? He would be quite charming if one
were forty-three. He's quite charming now, if it comes to that, and I'm
dreadfully fond of him, but he thinks about me too much; he's too
devoted. I hear his devotion going on tick, tick, all the time, like the
best clocks. That's one reason for not marrying him."

"I don't think it's a good one, though," remarked Gladys.

"Yes, it is. Because a man always expects from his wife what he gives
her. He would be absolutely happy living with me on a desert island;
but--I know it's true--he would tacitly require that I should be
absolutely happy living with him on a desert island. Well, I
shouldn't--I shouldn't--I shouldn't. I should not! Is that clear?"

"Quite."

"Very well, then, why did you say it wasn't? Oh, yes, I know I am right.
And he would always see that I was well wrapped up, and wonder whether I
wasn't a little pale. I can't bear that sort of thing. No doubt it's
one way of love; but I must say I prefer another. I daresay the love
that is founded on esteem and respect and affection is a very excellent
thing, but it's one of those excellent things which I am quite willing
to let other people have and enjoy. It's like--like Dresden china; I am
sure it is quite beautiful, but I don't want any myself. I wish you
would marry Willie yourself, darling. Don't mind me."

They rattled out over the cobblestones of the gate into Baker Street,
and plunged into the roaring traffic. Daisy had still a great deal to
say, and she raised her voice to make it heard above the intolerable
clatter of motor 'buses and the clip-clop of horses' hoofs.

"Besides, as I said, I want such a lot of things. I'm hard and worldly
and disgusting; but so it is. I want to be right at the top of the tree,
and if I married Willie I should just be Mrs. Carton, with that decaying
old place in Somerset; very nice and intensely respectable, but that's
all. It's quite a good thing to be nice and respectable, but it's rather
a vegetable thing to be, if you are nothing else. I must be an animal at
least, and that's why I'm playing 'Animal Grab.'"

Gladys looked--as was indeed the case--as if she did not quite
understand this surprising statement.

"I'm very slow, I know," she said, "but----"

"Yes, darling, you are, but you d