Norman laughed—­a deliberate provocation.  “Love has made a fool of you, old man,” he said.

“I notice you don’t deny,” retorted Tetlow shrewdly.

“Deny what?  There’s nothing to deny.”  He felt secure now that he knew she had been reticent with Tetlow as to the happenings in the cottage.

“Maybe I’m wronging you,” said Tetlow, but not in the tone of belief.  “However that may be, I know you’ll not refuse to listen to my appeal.  I love her, Norman.  I’m going to make her my wife if I can.  And I ask you—­for the sake of our old friendship—­to let her alone.  I’ve no doubt you could dazzle her.  You couldn’t make a bad woman of her.  But you could make her very miserable.”

Norman pushed about the papers before him.  His face wore a cynical smile; but Tetlow, who knew him in all his moods, saw that he was deeply agitated.

“I don’t know that I can win her, Fred,” he pleaded.  “But I feel that I might if I had a fair chance.”

“You think she’d refuse you?” said Norman.

“Like a flash, unless I’d made her care for me.  That’s the kind she is.”

“That sounds absurd.  Why, there isn’t a woman in New York who would refuse a chance to take a high jump up.”

“I’d have said so, too.  But since I’ve gotten acquainted with her I’ve learned better.  She may be spoiled some day, but she hasn’t been yet.  God knows, I wish I could tempt her.  But I can’t.”

“You’re entirely too credulous, old man.  She’ll make a fool of you.”

“I know better,” Tetlow stubbornly maintained.  “Anyhow, I don’t care.  I love her, and I’d marry her, no matter what her reason for marrying me was.”

What pitiful infatuation!—­worse than his own.  Poor Tetlow!—­he deserved a better fate than to be drawn into this girl’s trap—­for, of course, she never could care for such a heavy citizen—­heavy and homely—­the loosely fat kind of homely that is admired by no one, not even by a woman with no eye at all for the physical points of the male.  It would be a real kindness to save worthy Tetlow.  What a fool she’d make of him!—­how she’d squander his money—­and torment him with jealousy—­and unfit him for his career.  Poor Tetlow!  If he could get what he wanted, he’d be well punished for his imprudence in wanting it.  Really, could friendship do him a greater service than to save him?

Norman gave Tetlow a friendly, humorous glance.  “You’re a hopeless case, Billy,” he said.  “But at least don’t rush into trouble.  Take your time.  You can always get in, you know; and you may not get in quite so deep.”

“You promise to let her alone?” said Tetlow eagerly.

Again his distinguished friend laughed.  “Don’t be an ass, old man.  Why imagine that, just because you’ve taken a fancy to a girl, everyone wants her?” He clapped him on the shoulder, gave him a push toward the door.  “I’ve wasted enough time on this nonsense.”