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was at least a very good ‘sort.’ She was wanting in distinc-
tion, but, as Isabel had said, she was brave: she went into
cages, she flourished lashes, like a spangled lion-tamer. He
had not supposed her to be capable of vulgar arts, but these
last words struck him as a false note. When a marriage-
able young woman urges matrimony on an unencumbered
young man the most obvious explanation of her conduct is
not the altruistic impulse.
‘Ah, well now, there’s a good deal to be said about that,’
Ralph rejoined.
‘There may be, but that’s the principal thing. I must say I
think it looks very exclusive, going round all alone, as if you
thought no woman was good enough for you. Do you think
you’re better than any one else in the world? In America it’s
usual for people to marry.’
‘If it’s my duty,’ Ralph asked, ‘is it not, by analogy, yours
as well?’
Miss Stackpole’s ocular surfaces unwinkingly caught the
sun. ‘Have you the fond hope of finding a flaw in my reason-
ing? Of course I’ve as good a right to marry as any one else.’
‘Well then,’ said Ralph, ‘I won’t say it vexes me to see you
single. It delights me rather.’
‘You’re not serious yet. You never will be.’
‘Shall you not believe me to be so on the day I tell you I
desire to give up the practice of going around alone?’
Miss Stackpole looked at him for a moment in a manner
which seemed to announce a reply that might technically be
called encouraging. But to his great surprise this expression
suddenly resolved itself into an appearance of alarm and

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