"I know. Admiration is like porridge—awfully stodging, but you get hungry again almost as soon as you've eaten it."
"Exactly. Therefore," continued Paul, "an attractive woman is more likely to make this mistake than an unattractive one; yet when the time comes that her heart cries out for reality, she will need it quite as much as her less-admired sister, though probably by that time she will have thrown it away, and not be able to find it again. The unattractive woman, on the other hand, treasures up every bit of love she receives, and makes the most of it."
"I see; it is a serious thing to be an attractive woman after all," said Isabel thoughtfully. Then she looked up at Paul and smiled. "But it would be worse to be an unattractive one, wouldn't it? Oh! you don't think I ever shall be, do you, Mr. Seaton—not even when I'm old and grey? Please say you don't."
And Paul said it; and said it several times; and, what is more, he meant what he said.
CHAPTER IX.
Indecision.
Do I love you? Can I prove you
More than all the world to me?
Thus I ponder, and I wonder
What my true reply must be.
One afternoon, early in the season following Paul's visit to Elton Manor, he and Isabel were seated under a tree in Kensington Gardens. It was one of those days when spring pretends that it is summer, and the parks pretend that they are the country, and all the world pretends that it is young again: nevertheless Paul's face was very serious.
"Miss Carnaby," he said, "I want to speak to you."
Isabel shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry for that; and you look such a 'potent, grave and reverend seignior,' that I feel certain you are going to say something disagreeable. Now do think twice before you speak."