“Then see here, if—­this—­Mr. Stafford is distinguished looking and a gentleman, as well as rich, will you please tell me what kind of a man you want?”

The girl made no reply, but with a thoughtful expression on her face, gazed through the window.  It was now quite dark outside and the river below was dotted here and there with the lights of steamboats and sailing boats as they made their way up and down the broad stream.  Jim’s chance remark had set her thinking.  Others beside herself were speculating as to the purport of Mr. Stafford’s attentions?  That they were honorable she had not the slightest doubt, although at one time she had been a little afraid of him.  Those invitations to dinner and his manner on one or two occasions she had rather resented, but for some time past now he had quite changed.  He was more respectful, more sincere.  Supposing the impossible were to happen—­supposing he were to ask her to be his wife?  For all she knew, the proposal might come that very evening.  It might be part of the plan of this sudden impromptu dinner.  What would she say to him?  Did she love him?  Frankly she did not—­yet.  Could she ever love him?  The answer to that was in the future.  Ought a girl to marry a man whom she knew in her heart she did not love?  He was rich, the marriage was in every way desirable.  She would have every comfort, but could real happiness come of a marriage which on both sides would be, after all, only a mockery, a hollow sham?

Jimmie, impatient, repeated his question.

“Will you kindly tell us what kind of a man you want?”

Virginia looked up.  Calmly she answered: 

“I—­I want a man I can love.”

The clerk gave a low whistle.  Sarcastically he said: 

“If you can’t love a man as rich as Mr. Stafford, take my advice and go see a heart specialist.”

“A girl can’t love a man just because she wants to,” replied Virginia with dignity.  “Love doesn’t go where it’s sent; it goes where it pleases.”

“That’s right,” interrupted Fanny.  Turning to her fiance she said:  “You don’t suppose I loved a fourteen-dollar-a-week shipping clerk because I wanted to, do you?”

Jimmie squirmed in his chair.

“What?” he exclaimed.

Quickly Fanny mended matters.  With a conciliatory smile she added: 

“I loved him just because I had to.”

Immediately placated, the young man rose and, approaching his fiancee in a manner intended to suggest the tenderest sentiment, he stuttered: 

“Same here.  The first time I ever set eyes on you, Fanny, something inside o’ me said:  ‘Me for her!’”

The girl laughed.  Placing her hand over her heart, she said mockingly: 

“And something here said, ‘Him for me!’”

He stooped and kissed her and, taking her hand, they sat side by side on the sofa together in the manner of all conventional lovers.  Virginia, who had watched them with amusement, shook her head.  Sadly she said: