well as mine to wait till my father has provided for me. Here it is in a
nut-shell: if I marry you now, I'm a ruined man."

The answer came, this time.

"You villain if you _don't_ marry me, I am a ruined woman!"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Don't look at me in that way."

"How do you expect me to look at a woman who calls me a villain to my
face?"

She suddenly changed her tone. The savage element in humanity--let the
modern optimists who doubt its existence look at any uncultivated man
(no matter how muscular), woman (no matter how beautiful), or child (no
matter how young)--began to show itself furtively in his eyes, to utter
itself furtively in his voice. Was he to blame for the manner in which
he looked at her and spoke to her? Not he! What had there been in the
training of _his_ life (at school or at college) to soften and subdue
the savage element in him? About as much as there had been in the
training of his ancestors (without the school or the college) five
hundred years since.

It was plain that one of them must give way. The woman had the most at
stake--and the woman set the example of submission.

"Don't be hard on me," she pleaded. "I don't mean to be hard on _you._
My temper gets the better of me. You know my temper. I am sorry I forgot