"'On his way to America?' says I, stopping still in the middle of the
street.

"'To find his wife,' she says. 'He's pretty well ashamed of himself for
not having tried to do it before. I gave him one or two hints how to set
about it--he's not over smart--and I've got an idea he will discover
her.' She dropped her joking manner, and gave my arm a little squeeze.
She'd have flirted with her own grandfather--that's my opinion of her.

"'He was really nice,' she continues. 'I had to keep lecturing myself,
or I'd have been sorry for him. He told me it was his love for me that
had shown him what a wretch he had been. He said he knew I didn't care
for him two straws--and there I didn't contradict him--and that he
respected me all the more for it. I can't explain to you how he worked
it out, but what he meant was that I was so good myself that no one but a
thoroughly good fellow could possibly have any chance with me, and that
any other sort of fellow ought to be ashamed of himself for daring even
to be in love with me, and that he couldn't rest until he had proved to
himself that he was worthy to have loved me, and then he wasn't going to
love me any more.'

"'It's a bit complicated,' says I. 'I suppose you understood it?'

"'It was perfectly plain,' says she, somewhat shortly, 'and, as I told
him, made me really like him for the first time.'

"'It didn't occur to him to ask you why you had been flirting like a
volcano with a chap you didn't like,' says I.