"How would you like to go to India?" he asked her, dallying with the prospect of taking her there, visualising her bright presence in his bungalow.
"India! Oh, I don't know," she said, surprised. "I have never thought of going anywhere."
"But--but you will marry some day," he suggested tentatively, "and then you will have to go away."
She blushed and laughed a little nervously.
"Oh, that is not at all likely; and even if it were, how could I leave my father? He has become so dependent on me since my darling mother's death."
His spirits sank. He had forgotten all about her father, and the filial sense of duty that would, of course, prevail with such a dear, good girl. He resigned himself to the prospect of struggle, opposition; nevertheless, he meant to win, though in the end the marriage might have to be delayed for a reasonable period.
"But your father would never stand in the way of your happiness, surely?" he argued.
"I shouldn't be happy," she maintained, "if I thought I was behaving selfishly."
"Of course, to a certain extent you are right," he agreed; "but, after all, there are limits to unselfishness. Every woman has a just claim to her own existence." (In the case of his sister this view had not occurred to him.)
"Do you think so?" she asked doubtfully, in deference to his superior masculine wisdom.