“I have not said so.” He relapsed into moody silence.
“Listen,” she said, at length, picking up the loose end. “You are not altogether a stranger either.” Again that swift, half mocking, upward smile. “Outside of every girl’s life there is a man standing—just outside, his shadow across her path. She is always conscious of him there; she knows him as the man God made for her, but she cannot see him. Then, one day, he steps in and she recognizes him.”
“What a beautiful thought!” he echoed. And then: “Down in Macon, for instance, did you recognize me?”
“I am inclined to think I did,” she answered with a faint smile. “Nevertheless, I took you at your word, and asked about you.”
“In Macon?”
“No, silly.”
“What did you learn?”
“Oh, you are a talented young draughtsman, and ambitious. Also, you are a dreamer, an impetuous dreamer. You certainly are that. If I were an adventuress as well as—penniless, I might marry you and take chances on your success. I could always quit, you know. But I am not an adventuress and marriage is impossible for us.”
“Why impossible?” The sun was gone.
“There is a fact—I can’t tell you now. And you were to ask me no questions. But the fact is, now, insurmountable.”