"I do agree with you," said Jane softly. She reached out and laid her hand on his arm for an instant. "That's honest, Davy."
He gave her a grateful look. "I know it," said he. "The reason I confide things to you is because I know you're a real woman at bottom, Jane—the only real person I've ever happened across in our class."
"It took more courage for you to do that sort of thing than it would for a woman," said Jane. "It's more natural, easier for a woman to stake everything in love. If she hasn't the man she wants she hasn't anything, while a man's wife can be a mere detail in his life. He can forget he's married, most of the time."
"That isn't the way I intend to be married," said Davy. "I want a wife who'll be half, full half, of the whole. And I'll get her."
"You mean you haven't given up?"
"Why should I? She doesn't love another man. So, there's hope. Don't you think so?"
Jane was silent. She hastily debated whether it would be wiser to say yes or to say no.
"Don't you think so?" repeated he.
"How can I tell?" replied Jane, diplomatically. "I'd have to see her with you—see how she feels toward you."
"I think she likes me," said Davy, "likes me a good deal."