So I made an
errand--and I am here."

"And--?"

"And I have determined that, after the fashion of the Americans or the
English, I shall no longer ask the intervention of a third person. I
decided on it last night before I left here. I have no title to offer
you--you coldest and most charming of women, but I shall have fame;
you will have no reason to be ashamed of the name of Dumaresque. Put
me on probation, if you like, a year, two years!--only--"

"No; no!" she said pleadingly, putting out her hands with a slight
repellant gesture. "It is not to be thought of, Monsieur Loris, Maman
has told you! Twice has the same reply been given. I really cannot
allow you to continue this suppliance. I like you too well to be
angry with you, but--"

"I shall be content with the liking--"

"But I should not!" she declared, smilingly. "I have my ideals, if you
please, Monsieur. Marriage should mean love. It is only matrimony for
which liking is the foundation. I do not approve of matrimony."

"Pardon; that is the expression of the romance lover--the school girl.
But that I know you have lived the life of a nun I should fear some
one had been before me, some one who realized those ideals of yours,
and that instead of studying the philosophies of life, you have been a
student of the philosophy of love."

He spoke lightly--half laughingly, but the flush of pink suffusing her
throat and brow checked his smile. He could only stare.

She arose hastily and walked the length of the room. When she turned
the color was all gone, but her eyes were softly shining.

"All philosophy falls dead when the heart speaks," she said, as she
resumed her chair; "and now, Monsieur Loris, I mean to make you my
father confessor, for I know no better way of ending these periodical
proposals of yours, and at the same time confession might--well--it
might not be without a certain benefit to myself." He perceived that
while she had assumed an air of raillery, there was some substance
back of the mocking shadow.

"I shall feel honored by your confidence, Marquise," he was earnest
enough in that.

"And when you realize that there is--some one else--will you then
resume your former role of friend?"

"I shall try. Who is the man?"

She met his earnest gaze with a demure smile, "I do not know,
Monsieur."

"What, then?--you are only jesting with me?"

"Truly, I do not know his name."

"Yet you are in love with him?"

"I am not quite certain even