"No," she said. "I don't think so. It needs an answer, and you shall have it—but not yet. I've been a little fool, and have been punished for my folly; but I don't know any reason why I should make you suffer. You're only as you were made. You can't help it, I dare say."
"You surely can't think of marrying me, believing what you do."
"I don't know. While I thought you were an angel, I was afraid of you. I thought I should have to be constantly living up to you and listening to sermons;— Thank Heavens you can never preach to me again. Even you wouldn't have the face to do it now. But since I've found out that you're only very human, I really don't know but what I might grow to love you. I'll think it over. There," she continued, "don't look so sheepish. I may decide not to take you after all, but until then consider yourself on approval. Don't say anything more, you'd only bore me. I want to be by myself and get my face straight, if I can," and crossing the room she broke out again into peals of ringing, unmusical laughter.
"This is intolerable!" he cried, but he addressed thin air,—he was alone.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE DOOR WITH THE SILVER NAILS
"St. James' Club,
"Piccadilly, W.
"My Dear Stanley,
"I am sending this letter to you at Roberts' Hall, because I am certain that you are there.