here had been no overt love-making between John and
Dorothy up to that time. The scene at the gate approached perilously near
it, but the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
Mind you, I say there had been no love-making _between_ them. While
Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should dare go--and
to tell the exact truth, a great deal farther--John had remained almost
silent for reasons already given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and
failed to see in her conduct those signs of intense love which would have
been plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the fury
of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion and did not
really know its strength and power until he learned that another man was
soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life held but one purpose for him.
Thus, you see that when Dorothy was moaning, "My love, my love," and was
kissing the golden heart, she was taking a great deal for granted.
Perhaps, however, she better understood John's feeling for her than did he
himself. A woman's sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such
cases. Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode of
wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It may be
also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of reticence in John's
conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and perhaps he realized that if
he would allow Dorothy to manage the entire affair she would do his wooing
for him much better than he could do it for himself. If you are a man, try
the plan upon the next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be
one who has full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the
result. Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt.
But in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
opening of a campaign. Later on, of course--but you doubtless are quite as
well informed concerning this important subject as I. There is, however,
so much blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such a
college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my story.

I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before my return
to Haddon Hall the great