ouldn't be able to speak again the whole
evening. On the other hand, a beautiful woman, after you say that you
are delighted to meet her, expects the very next remark to concern her
good looks."

"Your insight is truly remarkable," she said, the dimple continuing its
elusive manoeuvres. "Hush; here comes Carmen."

And our voices grew faint in the swell of melody. Mrs. Wentworth was
entranced; her daughter was fondly gazing at the back of her fiance's
head; Phyllis had turned her face from me to the stage. As for myself,
I was not particularly interested in the cigarette girl. It was
running through my head that the hour had arrived. I patted my gloves
for a moment, then I drew a long breath.

"Phyllis!" said I. There was a quaver in my voice. Perhaps I had not
spoken loud enough. "Phyllis!" said I again.

She turned quickly and gave me an inquiring and at the same time
nervous glance.

"What is it?"

"I want to tell you something I have never dared to tell you till now,"
I said earnestly. The voice on the stage soared heavenward. "I love
you. Will you be my wife?"

Ah, me! where were those drooping eyelids, that flush, that shy, sweet
glance of which I had so often dreamt? Phyllis was frowning.

"Jack, I have been afraid of this," she said. "I am so sorry, but it
cannot be."

"Oh, do not say that now," I cried, crushing my gloves. "Wait awhile;
perhaps you may learn to love me."

"Jack, I have always been frank to you because I like you. Do you
suppose it will take me five years to find out what my heart says to
any man? No. Had I loved you I should not have asked you to wait; I
should have said yes. I do not love you in the way you wish. Indeed,
I like you better than any man I know, but that is all I can offer you.
I should be unkind if I held out any false hopes. I have often asked
myself why I do not love you, but there is something lacking in you,
something I cannot define. Some other woman will find what I have
failed to find in you to love."

I was twisting my gloves out of all recognition. There was a singing
in my ears which did not come from the stage.

"Look at it as I do, Jack. There is a man in this world whom I shall
love, and who will love me. We may never meet. Then he shall be an
ideal to me, and I to him. You believe you love me, but the love you
offer is not complete."

"Not complete?" I echoed.

"No. It would be if I returned it. Do you understand? The