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36 of you, who are so highly estimable—and respecting you so truly'"

"Oh, Elsie, don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you. I mean every word. You can't imagine how truly I respect you. 'And so'—that's how I would wind up—'I'm not worth dangling after any longer, and you had better find some other girl who will be less frank, perhaps, but who will, at any rate, give you something better worth having than what I can give you.'"

"Will you tell me first exactly what that is?"

"Honest friendship, and a dash of—how shall I call it?—affection."

"That's something gained, anyhow," he exclaimed. "I'm not a bit discouraged; I feel that I have made headway. You said that you were quite frank with me three months ago, and you told me then that there was no affection."

"I didn't know you so well three months ago. I hadn't had an opportunity of learning how estimable you are. Since then I have seen ever so much of you. I have seen you at home. I have heard your praises sung by everybody. You have done all sorts of nice things for me. I should be unnaturally ungrateful—a monster, if I hadn't some affection for you. But affection expresses everything. There's nothing more. There never will be anything more, and there ought to be a great deal more."

"Well, I am contented."

"You are very easily satisfied. My ideal lover, my prince among men, would never be contented with—affection. He would want all that there was, more, and if I hadn't got it to give him, he would make me a polite bow and go and look for it elsewhere."

"That would be because he didn't love you as much as I do. If he loved you he would be satisfied to wait, on the chance of getting the rest."

"And if he never could get the rest?"

"He would be quite satisfied as long as no one else got it."

"Ah—but if the prince came?"