nostrils very sensitive; slightly, charmingly-puckered lips; a
small, strong chin. Certainly she had improved greatly in the two
years since he had seen her in evening dress. "Though, perhaps,"
reflected he, "I only think so because I used to see her too much,
really to appreciate her."

"Well, why didn't you?" she was saying, idly waving her fan and
gazing vaguely around the room.

"Why didn't I--what?"

"You were trying to decide why you never fell in love with me."

"So I was," admitted Arkwright.

"Now if I had had lots of cash," mocked she.

He reddened, winced. She had hit the exact reason. Having a great
deal of money, he wanted more--enough to make the grandest kind
of splurge in a puddle where splurge was everything. "Rather,
because you are too intelligent," drawled he. "I want somebody
who'd fit into my melting moods, not a woman who'd make me ashamed
by seeming to sit in judgment on my folly."

"A man mustn't have too much respect for a woman if he's to fall
utterly in love with her--must he?"

Arkwright smiled constrainedly. He liked cynical candor in men,
but only pretended to like it in women because bald frankness in
women was now the fashion. "See," said he, "how ridiculous I'd