He failed to do so.  Sylvia was a born coquette, and most dangerous in that her power of attraction was natural, and as a rule she appealed to the better and more chivalrous feelings of her victims.  Fragile, and delicately pretty, she looked as if she needed some one to shelter and defend her from all troubles.  Bland decided that, although she rarely said anything brilliant, and he had seen more beautiful women, he had not met one who, taken all round, could compare with Sylvia.

“What are you thinking of?” she asked at length, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

“Oh,” he answered, slightly confused, “my mind was wandering.  I believe I was trying to explain a thing that’s wrapped in impenetrable mystery.”

“One wouldn’t have imagined you were given to that kind of amusement, and it’s obviously a waste of time.  Wouldn’t it be wiser to accept the object that puzzles you for what it seems, if it’s nice?”

“It is,” he declared, wondering whether this was a random shot on her part or one of the flashes of penetration with which she sometimes surprised him.

“Your advice is good.”

“I believe so,” responded Sylvia.  “If a thing pleases you, don’t try to find out too much about it.  That’s the way to disappointment.”

She was a little astonished at his reply.

“Perhaps it’s a deserved penalty.  One should respect a beautiful mystery—­unquestioning faith is a power.  It reacts upon its object as well as upon its possessor.”

“Even if it’s mistaken?”

“It couldn’t be altogether so,” Bland objected.  “Nothing that was unworthy could inspire real devotion.”

“All this is far too serious,” said Sylvia, petulantly; for her companion’s moralizing had awakened a train of unpleasant reflections.

She did not think unquestioning faith was common, but she knew of one man who was endowed with it, and he was toiling for her sake on the desolate western prairie.  Once or twice his belief in her had roused angry compunction, and she had revealed the more unfavorable aspects of her character, but he had refused to see them.

“Then what shall we talk about?” Bland inquired.

“Anything that doesn’t tax one’s brain severely.  Yourself, for example.”

“I’m not sure that’s flattering, and it’s an indifferent topic; but I won’t back out.  As I gave you your choice, I must take the consequences.”

“Are you always ready to do that?” There was a tiny hint of seriousness in her voice.

“Well,” he said with some dryness, “I generally try.”