“You darling!”

She smiled again uncertainly and shook her head: 

“I truly believe I have always been in love with you....  Now that I look back and consider, I am sure of it.”  She lifted her pretty head and gazed at him, then with a gay little laugh of sheer happiness almost defiant:  “You see I am not afraid to love you,” she said.

“Afraid?  Why should you be?” he repeated, watching her expression.

“Because—­I am not going to marry you,” she announced, gaily.

He stared at her, stunned.

“Listen, you funny boy,” she added, framing his face with her hands and smiling confidently into his troubled eyes:  “I am not afraid to love you because I never was afraid to face the inevitable.  And the inevitable confronts me now.  And I know it.  But I will not marry you, Louis.  It is good of you, dear of you to ask it.  But it is too utterly unwise.  And I will not.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, frankly, “I love you better than I do myself.”  She forced another laugh, adding:  “Unlike the gods, whom I love I do not destroy.”

“That is a queer answer, dear—­”

“Is it?  Because I say I love you better than I do myself?  Why, Louis, all the history of my friendship for you has been only that.  Have you ever seen anything selfish in my affection for you?”.

“Of course not, but—­”

“Well, then!  There isn’t one atom of it in my love for you, either.  And I love you dearly—­dearly!  But I’m not selfish enough to marry you.  Don’t scowl and try to persuade me, Louis, I’ve a perfectly healthy mind of my own, and you know it—­and it’s absolutely clear on that subject.  You must be satisfied with what I offer—­every bit of love that is in me—­” She hesitated, level eyed and self-possessed, considering him with the calm gaze of a young goddess: 

“Dear,” she went on, slowly, “let us end this marriage question once and for all.  You can’t take me out of my world into yours without suffering for it.  Because your world is full of women of your own kind—­mothers, sisters, relatives, friends....  And all your loyalty, all your tact, all their tact and philosophy, too, could not ease one moment in life for you if I were unwise enough to go with you into that world and let you try to force them to accept me.”

“I tell you,” he began, excitedly, “that they must accept—­”

“Hush!” she smiled, placing her hand gently across his lips; “with all your man’s experience you are only a man; but I know how it is with women.  I have no illusions, Louis.  Even by your side, and with the well-meant kindness of your family to me, you would suffer; and I have not the courage to let you—­even for love’s sake.”

“You are entirely mistaken—­” he broke out; but she silenced him with a pretty gesture, intimate, appealing, a little proud.

“No, I am not mistaken, nor am I likely to deceive myself that any woman of your world could ever consider me of it—­or could ever forgive you for taking me there.  And that means spoiling life for you.  And I will not!”