“Correct that fault.”
“I will try,” said Guy, submissively.
“And what will you do with the other?” June asked, smiling.
“Kill it outright, since it is a useless habit; but really are those faults all I have?”
“They are all I have noticed.”
“It seems to me you might be able to bear with two faults, since I have promised to correct them. I think if you had fifty I could overlook them all.”
“No, I shall wait and study your character, your likes and dislikes, and if, after a certain time, I find myself capable of bearing, patiently, those which I cannot correct, I will give you my answer, provided you have not 172 found a woman really faultless; meantime I ask as a favor that you speak freely of my faults whether great or small.”
“Shall I begin now?”
“As soon as you please.”
Guy looked at June’s bright, loving face, and wondered if there was one fault to correct. In all their acquaintance he had never seen her ill-humored. He had never heard her speak disparagingly of anyone, farther than strict honesty compelled. He really did not know how there could be a fault; but since she wished it he would try and find some to hold up for her special benefit. She had often told him that she never would make a mark in the world; she would never be other than June, and she would only be known in the circle in which she moved. Guy laughed outright at the idea of such nonsense, as he called it. He wanted a wife; a companion. He had known actresses who had made a great name, but he would not give a penny for the best one in the land. His business gave him an opportunity to know something of the private life of poets and novel writers, and he never yet saw one, however amiable they might be, that was calculated to brighten their own home.