"Veree, veree," murmured Juanita.
"It may seem singular," admitted Carker, "but a man like me, who has pledged his life to humanity, has little right to get married."
"I do not see why you say that," said Juanita.
"Perhaps I cannot make my reason plain to you, but there is an excellent reason. A man who marries should have a home. And a man who has a home should live in it. If I had such a home and was bound to it, I could not travel and carry on my life-work. I could not drag my wife around over the country, and it is not right for a married man to leave his wife alone a great deal."
"Gol rap it, Greg," exclaimed Ephraim, "I don't believe that's your real reason for not gittin' married! I'll bet some gal throwed you down!"
"Well, perhaps you're right," admitted the young socialist. "You can't blame her if she did."
"Why not can we blame her?" questioned Juanita. "Deed she have the other lovaire? Oh, ha! ha! Señor Carkaire! Maybe eet ees not nice to laugh, to joke, to speak of eet. I beg the pardon, señor."
She had seen a shadow flit across his face and vanish.
He forced a laugh.
"If there was another man," he said, "I'm conceited enough to think I might have captured the prize in spite of him had I been willing to sacrifice my principles and renounce my socialistic beliefs."