"What are you going to do about the lady you are really in love with?" I countered.
"I'm waiting to find out," said he, coolly. "Answer my question, please: Do you imagine you love him, Sophy?"
"It is not unpleasant to me that he should wish me to do so," I admitted.
"I see. You are trying to persuade yourself that you should accept him."
"I am not growing younger," I said, with an effort. "Remember, too, that Alicia will be leaving me presently, and I shall then be utterly alone. That is not a pleasing prospect—not to a woman."
"Nor to a man, either, but better that than a loveless marriage." He reflected for a moment. "If you are sure you care for the man, tell him truthfully every incident of last night. Otherwise, I do not feel like sharing my affairs with him; I do not want to drag Jessamine Hynds out of her grave to gratify his curiosity. For he has the curiosity of a cat, along with the obstinacy of a mule."
I smiled, wanly. "I gather that I'm not to tell him anything. What further?" I wanted to know, not without irony.
"This, then: that you keep on being engaged to me."
I looked at him incredulously.
"For the time being, Sophy, submit to my tentative claim. If you decide to let your—ah—common sense induce you to make what must be called a brilliant marriage, tell me, and I will go at once. In the meantime, Sophy, I am your friend, to whom your happiness is as dear as his own. Will you believe that?"