“’Really, to tell the truth, I have not troubled myself much about her intellect,’ he replied, with one of his sneering smiles.  ’I have no doubt that the amount of intellect absolutely necessary to the formation of a British home, I shall be able to supply myself.  I have no desire for an intellectual wife.  One is compelled to meet tiresome people, but one does not live with them if one can avoid it.’

“‘No,’ he continued, reverting to his more natural tone; ’the more I think of Elizabeth the more clear it becomes to me that she is the one woman in the world for whom marriage with me is possible.  I perceive that to the superficial observer my selection must appear extraordinary.  I do not pretend to explain it, or even to understand it.  The study of mankind is beyond man.  Only fools attempt it.  Maybe it is her contrast to myself that attracts me.  Maybe my, perhaps, too spiritual nature feels the need of contact with her coarser clay to perfect itself.  I cannot tell.  These things must always remain mysteries.  I only know that I love her—­that, if any reliance is to be placed upon instinct, she is the mate to whom Artemis is leading me.’

“It was clear that he was in love, and I therefore ceased to argue with him.  ’You kept up your acquaintanceship with her, then, after you’—­I was going to say ‘after you ceased to be Smith,’ but not wishing to agitate him by more mention of that person than I could help, I substituted, ‘after you returned to the Albany?’

“‘Not exactly,’ he replied; ’I lost sight of her after I left Yarmouth, and I did not see her again until five days ago, when I came across her in an aerated bread shop.  I had gone in to get a glass of milk and a bun, and she brought them to me.  I recognised her in a moment.’  His face lighted up with quite a human smile.  ’I take tea there every afternoon now,’ he added, glancing towards the clock, ‘at four.’

“‘There’s not much need to ask her views on the subject,’ I said, laughing; ‘her feelings towards you were pretty evident.’

“‘Well, that is the curious part of it,’ he replied, with a return to his former embarrassment; ’she does not seem to care for me now at all.  Indeed, she positively refuses me.  She says—­to put it in the dear child’s own racy language—­that she wouldn’t take me on at any price.  She says it would be like marrying a clockwork figure without the key.  She’s more frank than complimentary, but I like that.’

“‘Wait a minute,’ I said; ’an idea occurs to me.  Does she know of your identity with Smith?’

“‘No,’ he replied, alarmed, ’I would not have her know it for worlds.  Only yesterday she told me that I reminded her of a fellow she had met at Yarmouth, and my heart was in my mouth.’

“‘How did she look when she told you that?’ I asked.

“‘How did she look?’ he repeated, not understanding me.

“‘What was her expression at that moment?’ I said—­’was it severe or tender?’