Pamela allowed herself some relaxation in her attitude of seriousness and laughed. "I don't think it does to go by books in that sort of thing," she said. "Aren't you making a mistake in your feelings about me, Jim? I know you like me, and I'm very glad you do. I like you too. But we don't seem to be exactly cut out for one another. Really, you get on much better with Judith than you do with me. There's much more in common between you."
"Oh, I know what you think about me and Judith," he said, surprisingly. "I do get on very well with Judith, but it isn't the same thing at all. You've often sent me off with Judith when I've wanted to be with you, and I've gone because I didn't want to worry you, before I'd said what I've said just now, which I've been meaning to say for some time. It's you I love, not Judith."
This touched her a little. "I'm awfully grateful to you, Jim," she said. "But I can't say what you want. And I'm still not sure that you really do want it. Perhaps I ought not to say it—but we are such good friends, aren't we? And as we've mentioned Judith—I'm sure she has no idea of such a thing, and of course she and I have never talked about you in that way—I really do believe that you like her much better than you think you do. She's a darling, and ever so much prettier than I am, and much more suited to you too. If you could once get me out of your head!"
He listened gravely, and seemed to be weighing what she said. "I've never thought about Judith in that way at all," he said. "She's too young for one thing."
"Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, blushing a little. "Perhaps it's rather horrid of me to talk of her like that. And of course I don't mean now. You're quite young too—not old enough to want to be married yet."
"I shouldn't aim at getting married yet," he confessed, "in the ordinary way, perhaps not for a few years. But there's no reason against it. When I've left Oxford, which will be in another year, I shall be settling down to work, and it has lately seemed to me that I could work much better if I was married—to somebody I love, as I love you, who would help me in everything I did."
"Dear old Jim," she said affectionately. "Somehow, I think you've got hold of the right idea of marriage. With the right girl you would be happy, and I think you would make her happy too. But I'm sure I'm not the right girl for you. We'll go on being friends, though, all the same."
He heaved a sigh. "Well, I can see it's no good going on about it," he said. "All the same, I shan't give up the idea. I suppose there's nobody else you do want to marry, is there?"
"No," she said shortly.
"Well, then, I shall ask you again—when I've left Oxford, and am ready to start. Until then, I shan't bother you—not at all, and I shall be glad to go on being friends, as you say you will be. You won't tell anyone what I've asked you, will you?"