only jesting."

"And that is?"

"A _faineant_, a dilettante; a man with all the God-given ability to
do as he will and to succeed, and yet who will not take the trouble to
persevere."

Winton smiled, a grim little smile.

"You are not quite like any other woman I have ever known--not like
any other in the world, I believe. Your sisters, most of them, would
take it as the sincerest homage that a man should neglect his work for
his love. Do you care so much for success, then?"

"For the thing itself--nothing, less than nothing. But--but one may
care a little for the man who wins or loses."

He tried to take her hand again, tried and failed.

"Virginia!--is that my word of hope?"

"No. Will you never see the commonplace effrontery of it, Mr. Winton?
Day after day you have come here, idling away the precious hours that
meant everything to you, and now you come once again to offer me a
share in what you have lost. Is that your idea of chivalry, of true
manhood?"

Again the grim smile came and went.