"There are three things which combine to produce love," continued Paul, in his youthfully didactic way; "moral excellence, intellectual companionship and physical charm. Of course if one can get the three in a line, one is right for all time; but generally one has to put up with only two. I respected Alice's character and I felt her charm; but intellectually she and I were never comrades; nevertheless I fancied that two conditions out of the three might prove enough. After her conduct the other day, however, I saw that, though sweet and amiable, there was something small and paltry in her nature. Therefore she has now ceased to appeal to the second side of me; and personal beauty alone is not sufficient to satisfy me in a wife. So out of my future life Alice goes."
"Then do you mean to say that, as far as you are concerned, another man has the right to try and win Alice?"
Paul looked up in surprise. "Of course! Why not? You don't mean to say that you care for her?"
"But I do," answered Edgar with his quiet smile; "I have cared for her all her life, and I shall continue to do so all mine. But I stood on one side because I thought you loved her." He was too chivalrous to say, "because I thought she loved you".
"Well, go in and win, old man!" cried Paul, grasping his friend's hand. "But don't you think that her action the other day was rather small and petty?"
"I think I would rather not discuss Alice even with you, my dear fellow. You see, I should knock down any man who dared to say a word against her, and I should be sorry if that man happened to be yourself."
"All right; I beg your pardon. All that I can say is that I think Alice is the luckiest girl I know."
"I'm afraid she won't think so."
"Why? don't you think she cares for you?" inquired the unperceiving Paul.
"I am sure she doesn't, worse luck for me!"