That was Miss Arleigh's first interview with her admirer, the second
was, he assured her, for the sake of the picture--the third, that he
might see how the picture was going on--the fourth, that she might see
it completed--the fifth, because she found the flattery of his love so
irresistible she could no longer do without it--the sixth, because she
began to fall in love with him herself--and then she lost all count, she
lived for those interviews, and nothing else.

"I want to impress one thing upon you," said Adelaide to her brother;
"bear it always in mind. When you think you have made sufficient
advances in her favor to ask her to marry you, do not rest satisfied
with her spoken word, make her write it. It will be of no use to you
unless you do that."

"Explain a little further, my wisest of sisters," said Allan.

"A written promise of marriage is the only security a man has. Women
change like the wind, without rhyme or reason. But if you have her own
word pledged to you, her promise of marriage written so that there shall
be no mistake, then it will be worth a fortune to you."

"Even if she should refuse to fulfil"--

"You are not very worldly wise, Allan," said his sister with the
slightest tinge of contempt in her voice. "If she fulfils it, all well
and good. The very fact of having written it keeps a girl true when she
should otherwise be false. But if she refuses to keep it, the remedy
then is in your own hands."