"Do you doubt it?"
"A half-dozen proposals have not convinced me."
"Seven," he corrected. "This is the eighth."
"How long do you intend to keep it up?"
"Until I produce in your mind a psychological condition which will convince you that I'm in earnest, that I am sincere, that I am the man for you. Then I shall produce an emotional reflex—it's sure to follow. It may come to-night and it may come next year. Sooner or later circumstances will bring about this crystallization. Some shock may help; it may be a simple growth. I am sure to win you in the long run. I'm bound to have you, and I will, if I have to make a hundred attempts. You can't dismiss me, for I'm an old friend and you need me. I have educated you, I have broadened your horizon. You see, I am playing with my cards on the table."
"But without trumps." Clytie stifled a yawn.
"Meaning, I suppose, that I have no heart? Clubs may do. I rely upon your atavism."
"I suppose you have as much heart as can be made out of brain."
"What if I say that I'm jealous? Will that prove that I have a heart?"
"Oh, you're too conceited ever to be jealous."