“Or Josephine.”

“—­or Josephine—­may seem to some man to be pricelessly valuable.  And if she happens to seem so to him, why, she is so.”

“Meaning—­Jersey City?”

His eyes glittered curiously.  “Meaning Jersey City,” he said.

A long silence.  Then Ursula:  “But suppose Josephine hears?”

He stood beside the doorway, waiting for her to pass out.  His face expressed nothing.  “Let’s go down.  I’m hungry.  We were talking about it this afternoon.”

“You and Jo!”

“Josephine and I.”

“And it’s all right?”

“Why not?”

“You fooled her?”

“I don’t stoop to that sort of thing.”

“No, indeed,” she laughed.  “You rise to heights of deception that would make anyone else giddy.  Oh, I’d give anything to have heard.”

“There’s nothing to deceive about,” said he.

She shook her head.  “You can’t put it over me, Fred. You’ve never before made a fool of yourself about a woman.  I’d like to see her.  I suppose I’d be amazed.  I’ve observed that the women who do the most extraordinary things with men are the most ordinary sort of women.”

“Not to the men,” said he bitterly.  “Not while they’re doing it.”

“Does she seem extraordinary to you still?”

He thrust his hands deep in his pockets.  “What you heard is true.  I’m letting everything slide—­work—­career—­everything.  I think of nothing else.  Ursula, I’m mad about her—­mad!”

She threw back her head, looked at him admiringly.  Never had she so utterly worshiped this wonderful, powerful brother of hers.  He was in love—­really—­madly in love—­at last.  So he was perfect!  “How long do you think it will hold, Fred?” she said, all sympathy.

“God knows!”

“Yet—­caring for her you can go on and marry another woman!”

He looked at his sister cynically.  “You wouldn’t have me marry her, would you?”

“Of course not,” protested she hastily.  Her passion for romance did not carry her to that idiocy.  “You couldn’t.  She’s a sort of working girl—­isn’t she?—­anyhow, that class.  No, you couldn’t marry her.  But how can you marry another woman?”

“How could I give up Josephine?—­and give her up probably to Bob Culver?”

Ursula nodded understandingly.  “But—­what are you going to do?”

“How should I know?  Perhaps break it off when I marry—­if you can call it breaking off, when there’s nothing to break but—­me.”

“You don’t mean—­” she cried, stopping when her tone had carried her meaning.

He laughed.  “Yes—­that’s the kind of damn fool I’ve been.”

“You must have let her see how crazy you were about her.”

“Was anyone ever able to hide that sort of insanity?”

Ursula gazed wonderingly at him, drew a long breath.  “You!” she exclaimed.  “Of all men—­you!”