"I could tell you things—" he began.
"Don't," she begged. "I know what your outlook is now. Be definite.
Leaving aside that other matter, what is your proposition to me?"
Fischer walked for a while in silence. They had turned back some time since, and were once more nearing the Plaza.
"You ask me to leave out what is most vital," he said at last. "I have never been married, Miss Van Teyl. I am wealthy. I am promised great honours at the end of this war. When that comes, I shall rest. If you will be my wife, you can choose your home, you can choose your title."
She shook her head.
"But I am not sure that I even like you, Mr. Fischer," she objected. "We have fought in opposite camps, and you have had the bad taste to be victorious. Besides which, you were perfectly brutal to James, and I am not at all sure that I don't resent your bargain with me. As a matter of fact, I am feeling very bitter towards you."
"You should not," he remonstrated earnestly. "Remember that, after all, women are only dabblers in diplomacy. Their very physique prevents them from playing the final game. You have brains, of course, but there are other things—experience, courage, resource. You would be a wonderful helpmate, Miss Van Teyl, even if your individual and unaided efforts have not been entirely successful."
She sighed. Pamela just then was a picture of engaging humility.
"It is so hard for me," she murmured, "I do not want to marry yet. I do not wish to think of it. And so far as you are concerned, Mr. Fischer—well, I am simply furious when I think of your attitude last night. But I love adventures."
"I will promise you all the adventures that can be crammed into your life," he urged.