Osmond laughed, and looked at his friend curiously.

"Many thousand times," was his reply.

"No, but seriously," urged Julian.

"With desperate seriousness for two or three days at a time. Never
longer."

"Well now, answer me in all earnestness. Do you believe it possible
to love a woman whom in almost every respect you regard as your
inferior, who you know can't understand your thoughts and
aspirations, who has no interest in anything above daily needs?"

"Impossible to say. Is she good-looking?"

"Suppose she is not; yet not altogether plain."

"Then does she love you?"

Julian reddened at the direct application.

"Suppose she seems to."

"Seems to, eh?--On the whole, I should say that I couldn't declare
it possible or the contrary till I had seen the girl. I myself
should be very capable of falling desperately in love with a girl
who hadn't an idea in her head, and didn't know her letters. All I
should ask would be passion in return, and--well, yes, a pliant