"I won't marry."
"But—but"—
"I won't marry, anyway, unless I see some one I like better than I do you," said Lynn, deliberately. "It is best to be explicit, isn't it? I don't want to hurt you, but this is the plain truth of the matter. The idea of marrying just for the sake of being called 'Mrs.' doesn't appeal to me, at all; and I could not marry you for any other reason. Oh yes, of course I might marry you for the sake of living in a nice house and getting my clothes in Paris; but I don't care much about that, either. You see what I mean?"
"Oh, yes, I see. I thought, some way—you see I have a fairly good income and you're fond of horses"—
"You thought I might marry you for the pleasure of seeing something of your horses; is that it?"
"Oh, I say, Miss Thayer, let up! It's bad enough to be refused without being made game of."
"I suppose it is," said Lynn, slowly. She looked at him as though a new idea had occurred to her. "I wonder why you want to marry me," she said at last.
"Why I want to marry you?"
"Yes. I'm not very young, I'm not at all pretty and I have no money. It seems a most curious thing that you should have taken this violent fancy to me. Why did you? Do you know?"
"I say! you are a queer girl."