clusion? The first comer could tell me that at
the end of an hour."

"Do you want me to invent something different?" Bernard asked. "I can't
invent anything better."

"I don't want you to invent anything. I only want you to observe her--to
study her in complete independence. You will have her to yourself--my
absence will leave you at liberty. Hang it, sir," Gordon declared, "I
should think you would like it!"

"Damn it, sir, you 're delicious!" Bernard answered; and he broke into
an irrepressible laugh. "I don't suppose it 's for my pleasure that you
suggest the arrangement."

Gordon took a turn about the room again.

"No, it 's for mine. At least, it 's for my benefit."

"For your benefit?"

"I have got all sorts of ideas--I told you the other day. They are all
mixed up together and I want a fresh impression."

"My impressions are never fresh," Bernard replied.

"They would be if you had a little good-will--if you entered a little
into my dilemma." The note of reproach was so distinct in these words
that Bernard stood staring. "You never take anything seriously," his
companion went on.

Bernard tried to answer as seriously as possible.

"Your dilemma seems to me of all dilemmas the strangest."

"That may be; but different people take things differently. Don't you
see," Gordon went on with a sudden outbreak of passion--"don't you
see that I am horribly divided in mind? I care immensely for Angela
Vivian--and yet--and yet--I am afraid of her."

"Afraid of her?"

"I am afraid she 's cleverer than I--that she would be a difficult wife;
that she might do strange things."

"What sort of things?"

"Well, that she might flirt, for instance."

"That 's not a thing for a man to fear."

"Not when he supposes his wife to be fond of him--no. But I don't
suppose that--I have given that up. If I should induce Angela Vivian to
accept me she would do it on grounds purely reasonable. She would think
it best, simply. That would give her a chance to repent."

Bernard sat for some time looking at his friend.

"You say she is cleverer than you. It 's impossible to be cleverer than
you."

"Oh, come, Longueville!" said Gordon, angrily.

"I am speaking very seriously. You have done a remarkably clever thing.
You have impressed me with the reality, and with--what shall I term
it?--the estimable character of what you call your dilemma. Now this
fresh impression of mine--what do you propose to do with it when you get