‘I hope so,’ said Johnny.

‘There is my hand, then.’  So Johnny took her hand and pressed it, and held it for a little while—­just long enough to seem to give a meaning to the action.  ‘You will get to understand me some day,’ she said, ’and will learn that I do not like to be reckoned among the everybodies by those for whom I really—­really—­really have a regard.  When I am angry, I am angry.’

‘You were very angry just now, when you showed me the way to the door.’

’And I meant it too—­for the minute.  Only think—­supposing you had gone!  We should never have seen each other again;—­never, never!  What a change one word may make!’

‘One word often does make a change.’

’Does it not?  Just a little “yes” or “no”.  A “no” is said when a “yes” is meant, and then there comes no second chance, and what a change that may be from bright hopes to desolation!  Or, worse again, a “yes” is said when a “no” should be said—­when the speaker knows that it should be “no”.  What a difference that “no” makes!  When one thinks of it, one wonders that a woman should ever say anything but “no".’

‘They never did say anything else to me,’ said Johnny.

‘I don’t believe it.  I daresay the truth is, you never asked anybody.’

‘Did anybody ever ask you?’

’What would you give to know?  But I will tell you frankly;—­yes.  And once—­once I thought that my answer would not have been a “no".’

‘But you changed your mind?’

’When the moment came I could not bring myself to say the word that should rob me of my liberty for ever.  I had said “no” to him often enough before—­poor fellow; and on this occasion, he told me that he had asked me for the last time.  “I shall not give myself another chance,” he said, “for I shall be on board ship within a week.”  I merely bade him good-bye.  It was the only answer I gave him.  He understood me, and since that day his foot has not pressed his native soil.’

‘And was it all because you are so fond of your liberty?’ said Johnny.

‘Perhaps—­I did not—­love him,’ said Miss Demolines, thoughtfully.  She was now again seated in her chair, and John Eames had gone back to his corner of the sofa.  ’If I had really loved him, I suppose it would have been otherwise.  He was a gallant fellow, and had two thousand a year of his own, in India stock and other securities.’

‘Dear me!  And he has not married yet?’

’He wrote me a word to say that he would never marry till I was married—­but that on the day that he should hear of my wedding, he would go to the first single woman near him and propose.  It was a droll thing to say; was it not?’

‘The single woman ought to feel herself flattered.’

’He would find plenty to accept him.  Besides being so well off he was a very handsome fellow, and is connected with people of title.  He had everything to recommend him.’