"But we are--we are."

Valencia shook her head. "Oh, no! There will be no rapturous song
of birds for us, none of that fine wantonness that doesn't stop to
count the cost. If we marry no doubt we'll have good reasons, but
not the very best one--that we can't help it."

He would not consent to that. "You're not speaking for me. The
birds sing, Valencia."

"Canaries in a cage," she mocked.

"You've forgotten two things."

"Yes?"

"That you are the most beautiful woman on earth, and that I'm a
man, with red blood in my veins."

Under lowered lids she studied him. This very confident, alert
American, modern from head to heel, attracted her more than any
other man. There was a dynamic quality in him that stirred her
blood. He was efficient, selfish enough to win, and yet
considerate in the small things that go to make up the sum of
existence. Why not then? She must marry some time and she was as
nearly in love as she would ever be.

"What ARE your reasons for wanting me?"