"I don't quite get that."
"I can't speak for all girls, but for myself, if I ever have a husband, I want—I want to creep off into a corner with him."
"A corner like this rock?"
"This is big enough."
"How would that suit the great Charles Wilbur?"
"It would not suit him. I know that. The homely little stoop-shouldered man, with the lovely soul, whom I mean to marry, will not altogether please my father."
Philip's eyes grew big in the moonlight. "Have you picked him out?"
"Yes, as an ideal. Other women will leave me in possession of him."
"Ah," Philip nodded, "I begin to see." They were both silent again. At last Philip spoke again. "I deny that that girl you are warning me away from would have such a rocky time. What do you suppose I should care for the babble, no matter how kind it was, how sweet even, of other women? I should see only her."
"You think so," said Diana. "I know you think so. And at first it would probably be so, but a singer's appetite for flattery grows. Of course it does. I'm not blaming you. It's just your career."