dfully if I did not go on--or if she imagined I cared so little for
it all. But one season is enough to waste. Don't you think so?"

"Quite enough," he assured her.

"--And--why should I ever marry?" she demanded, lifting her clear, sweet
eyes to his.

"Why indeed?" he repeated with conviction. "I can see no reason."

"I am glad you understand me," she said. "I am not a marrying woman."

"Not at all," he assured her.

"No, I am not; and Nina--the darling--doesn't understand. Why, what do
you suppose!--but _would_ it be a breach of confidence to anybody if I
told you?"

"I doubt it," he said; "what is it you have to tell me?"

"Only--it's very, very silly--only several men--and one nice enough to
know better--Sudbury Gray--"

"Asked you to marry them?" he finished, nodding his head at the cat.

"Yes," she admitted, frankly astonished; "but how did you know?"

"Inferred it. Go on."

"There is nothing more," she said, without embarrassment. "I told Nina
each time; but she confused me by asking for details; and the details
were too foolish and too annoying to repeat. . . . I do not wish to
marry anybody. I think I made that very plain to--everybody."

"Right as usual," he said cheerfully; "you are too intelligent to
consider that sort of thing just now."

"You _do_ understand me, don't you?" she said gratefully. "There are so
many serious things in life to learn and to think of, and that is the
very last thing I should ever consider. . . . I am very, very glad I had
this talk with you. Now I am rested and I shall retire for a good long
sleep."

With which paradox she stood up, stifling a tiny yawn, and looked
smilingly at him, all the old sweet confidence in her eyes. Then,
suddenly mocking:

"Who suggested that you call me by my first name?" she asked.

"Some good angel or other. May I?"

"If you please; I rather like it. But I couldn't very well call you
anything except 'Captain Selwyn.'"

"On account of my age?"

"Your _age_!"--contemptuous in her confident equality.

"Oh, my wisdom, then? You probably reverence me too deeply."

"Probably not. I don't know; I couldn't do it--somehow--"

"Try it--unless you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Yes, you are, if you don't take a dare."

"You dare me?"

"I do."

"Philip," she said, hesitating, adorable in her embarrassment. "No! No!
No! I can't do it that way in cold blood. It's got to be 'Captain
Selwyn'. . . for a while, anyway. . . . Good-