intentions towards a girl, and has not determined in his own mind that
he wants to marry her; if he is only liking her a great deal, with but
an occasional wonder in the depths of his own heart whether this girl
is the wife for him; to call upon her casually and see the family
scatter, and other callers hastily leave, is enough to scare him to
death. And the girl herself has a right to be furiously indignant.
When eligible young people are in that tentative stage, it is death to
a love to make them self-conscious.

I myself am so afraid of brushing the down from the butterfly wings at
this point that, occasionally, when I have been calling, and the
girl's possible lover has caught me before I could escape in a natural
manner, I have doggedly remained, even knowing that perhaps he wished
me well away among the angels, rather than to run the risk of making
him conscious that I understood his state of mind. Imagine my feelings
of anguish, however, at holding on against my will and against theirs,
wanting somebody to help me let go! Much better, I solace myself
afterwards, that he should wish me away than to look after my
retreating form and wish, in Heaven's name, that I had stayed! Better
for the girl, I mean. For my own feelings--but I do not count. I am
only giving a girl one of her rights in love. A few judicious
obstacles but whet a man's appetite--if he is worth having. And I do
not mind being a judicious obstacle once in a while--if I like the
girl.

As to how far a girl has a right to encourage a man in love, opinions
differ. I once asked a clever literary friend of mine, whose husband
is so satisfactory that it is quite a delightful shock to discover it,
how far men ought to be encouraged to make love.