“‘Well, that is the curious part of it,’ he replied, with a return to his former embarrassment; ‘she does not seem to care for me now at all. Indeed, she positively refuses me. She says—to put it in the dear child’s own racy language—that she wouldn’t take me on at any price. She says it would be like marrying a clockwork figure without the key. She’s more frank than complimentary, but I like that.’
“‘Wait a minute,’ I said; ‘an idea occurs to me. Does she know of your identity with Smith?’
“‘No,’ he replied, alarmed, ‘I would not have her know it for worlds. Only yesterday she told me that I reminded her of a fellow she had met at Yarmouth, and my heart was in my mouth.’
“‘How did she look when she told you that?’ I asked.
“‘How did she look?’ he repeated, not understanding me.
“‘What was her expression at that moment?’ I said—‘was it severe or tender?’
“‘Well,’ he replied, ‘now I come to think of it, she did seem to soften a bit just then.’
“‘My dear boy,’ I said, ‘the case is as clear as daylight. She loves Smith. No girl who admired Smith could be attracted by Smythe. As your present self you will never win her. In a few weeks’ time, however, you will be Smith. Leave the matter over until then. Propose to her as Smith, and she will accept you. After marriage you can break Smythe gently to her.’
“‘By Jove!’ he exclaimed, startled out of his customary lethargy, ‘I never thought of that. The truth is, when I am in my right senses, Smith and all his affairs seem like a dream to me. Any idea connected with him would never enter my mind.’
“He rose and held out his hand. ‘I am so glad I came to see you,’ he said; ‘your suggestion has almost reconciled me to my miserable fate. Indeed, I quite look forward to a month of Smith, now.’