“To one of the ideals?”
“Of course not. One never marries one’s ideal. No; this was to be the loveliest of her sex. Happily a man turned up at the last moment who had a prior claim to her hand, and I was saved.”
“Happy woman!”
“I see you don’t look at the case from my point of view, Miss Langton.”
“No; I take up the cause of my sex against you.”
“That is unkind. She treated me very cruelly, I assure you.”
“For which and for your consequent deliverance from the trammels of constancy you are very grateful.”
“Do you think I am inconstant, Miss Langton?” he asked, with sudden gravity.
“I am inclined to think so, certainly; but I look upon it as a very fortunate provision of nature,” said she, half laughing nervously.
“Then you are wrong. If I am inconstant it is by philosophy, and not by disposition. You know, when people have toothache very badly they sometimes hold things that burn in their mouths, so that the small, sharp new pain may make them forget for the moment the old dull one.”