"Well, you see, my conscience would not permit me to meet such a remarkable woman as Miss Landors without becoming better acquainted with her." He swung his cane back and forth.
"This is very sudden," said I, lighting a cigar. "When did it happen?"
"What time did she come into your office the other day?"
"It must have been after eleven."
"Then it happened about eleven-fifteen." Pembroke's eyes were dancing.
"Do you—er—think there are any others?"
"Thousands," said I, "only—" I turned the end of my cigar around to see if the light had proved effective.
"Only what?"
"Only she won't have them."
"Then there is really a chance?"
"When a woman is not married there is always a chance," said I, wisely. "But let me tell you, cousin mine, she has a very high ideal. The man who wins her must be little less than a demigod and a little more than a man. Indeed, her ideal is so high that I did not reach it by a good foot."