n!" she said, more steadily than he. "I thank you very much. I
guessed that you liked me, but--but I am not quite sure of you."

"Of me!" he repeated in amazement. "Why, I--I swear that I love you.
What are you not sure of? My income? (Excuse me for mentioning it,
miss.) You can look at my books if you like. My character? Any of the
neighbors would speak for me----"

She waved her hand impatiently.

"It is not that. Only I am not sure that you love Romance."

He started.

"Romance! I dunno ..." he said blankly. "What are the symptoms? I know I
love you right enough, but Romance...."

"Exactly. I do not know. I like you--oh! very much indeed. Sometimes I
think I love you, but then a doubt creeps in. Suppose, I say, he has not
a soul!"

"Oh, come!" remonstrated the other. "You ought to know better than that.
Why, that's pretty near atheism! I go to church----"

"It is not that kind of soul," she explained. "I mean, a sense of
adventure--of excitement--in a word, romance! To marry a man without
romance would be insupportable; life would be too dull. If only I could
be sure that you had romance, I might...."

"Try me," said the practical Henry. "I must say, miss, I don't exactly
see what you mean. But I'd do anything to please you. Tell me how to set
about this romance idea and I'll do my best."

"You mean that?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes," he replied stoutly. "Anything in reason."

"Or unreason? The true romance knows no reason."

Mr. Brown, against his better judgment, but compelled by her
attractions, said, "It's a bet!"

After this momentous decision there was a silence. The lady sank back in
her seat and began to meditate with a pleased smile. Henry Brown, a
whirl of conflicting emotions, looked gaily out into the street. It was
depressing to the view, wet, dirty and forbidding; but to him it was the
antechamber of Paradise. At last he was by way of realizing his ideal:
his frequent failures and persistent struggles were presently to be
crowned with fulfilment. In a burst of noble emotion he resolved to give
the cabman a sovereign. He turned his head once more to look at his
charmer and caught sight of a little white hand lying carelessly on the
seat. It suggested a happy idea; and with a respectful tenderness he
lifted it and pressed it warmly.

"Oh! you must not!"

"Beg pardon!" he said, though he was sensible enough not to drop the
hand; "it was this romance idea that put it into my he