Charteris (impulsively clasping Grace).  My dearest love.

Grace (responding affectionately).  My darling.  Are you happy?

Charteris.  In Heaven.

Grace.  My own.

Charteris.  My heart’s love. (He sighs happily, and takes her hands in his, looking quaintly at her.) That must positively be my last kiss, Grace, or I shall become downright silly.  Let us talk. (Releases her and sits a little apart from her.) Grace:  is this your first love affair?

Grace.  Have you forgotten that I am a widow?  Do you think I married
Tranfield for money?

Charteris.  How do I know?  Besides, you might have married him not because you loved him, but because you didn’t love anybody else.  When one is young, one marries out of mere curiosity, just to see what it’s like.

Grace.  Well, since you ask me, I never was in love with Tranfield, though I only found that out when I fell in love with you.  But I used to like him for being in love with me.  It brought out all the good in him so much that I have wanted to be in love with some one ever since.  I hope, now that I am in love with you, you will like me for it just as I liked Tranfield.

Charteris.  My dear, it is because I like you that I want to marry you.  I could love anybody—­any pretty woman, that is.

Grace.  Do you really mean that, Leonard?

Charteris.  Of course.  Why not?

Grace (reflecting).  Never mind why.  Now tell me, is this your first love affair?

Charteris (amazed at the simplicity of the question).  No, bless my soul.  No—­nor my second, nor my third.

Grace.  But I mean your first serious one.

Charteris (with a certain hesitation).  Yes. (There is a pause.  She is not convinced.  He adds, with a very perceptible load on his conscience.) It is the first in which I have been serious.

Grace (searchingly).  I see.  The other parties were always serious.

Charteris.  No, not always—­heaven forbid!

Grace.  How often?

Charteris.  Well, once.

Grace.  Julia Craven?

Charteris (recoiling).  Who told you that? (She shakes her head mysteriously, and he turns away from her moodily and adds) You had much better not have asked.

Grace (gently).  I’m sorry, dear. (She puts out her hand and pulls softly at him to bring him near her again.)

Charteris (yielding mechanically to the pull, and allowing her hand to rest on his arm, but sitting squarely without the least attempt to return the caress).  Do I feel harder to the touch than I did five minutes ago?

Grace.  What nonsense!

Charteris.  I feel as if my body had turned into the toughest of hickory.  That is what comes of reminding me of Julia Craven.  (Brooding, with his chin on his right hand and his elbow on his knee.) I have sat alone with her just as I am sitting with you—­