"Come here," she said, taking him by the wrist and leading him to the sofa. "Sit down there. Are you really seriously thinking of marriage?"
"Yes, I am."
She drew back in her chair, looking at him in doubt.
"Teddy," she said at last, "you are too worth while to be spoiled like that. You have been too loyal a friend for me not to keep you from this blunder."
"But, good heavens, am I not a responsible being?"
"Listen," she said, cutting him off. She glanced at the clock. "I haven't much time, so don't interrupt me. I am very fond of you and what I say is in kindness. Yes, I am going to marry, and yet I say to you that you should not. I understand what it means. I have nothing to learn. There are two kinds of marriages, Teddy. The marriage that ninety-nine persons out of a hundred make—the marriage that is a joining of forces to fight the battle of life—has a definite object. The wife is the helpmate. The serious thing is to live, to pay the bills and to save a little money. You have nothing to do with that kind of marriage. The other kind of marriage is the marriage our sort makes, most of the time—no responsibilities, no object, and no struggle. You take a wife to help you enjoy yourself, and your enjoyment depends on piling up new sensations—in never being bored. Happiness in such conditions is a miracle. As a matter of fact, it is not a marriage at all, it is simply a liaison."
"Even then?"
"Yes, certain liaisons have lasted and been happy," she admitted; "we know that, but only on the same terms that will make permanent happiness in such a marriage. You are not a worker—you are simply curious about life, and curiosity is not a thing that is satisfied by one experience. The marriage you would make now would simply be an experience in curiosity, with inevitable results. To have any chance of success, do you know what ought to be?"
"What?"
"There should be on each side an equal experience in curiosity. When you have known two hundred women, you will find that there is always one above the rest who is necessary to you. Miss Charters may be that one now, but without the experience I speak of, you will never recognize it until too late. Therefore," she said, standing up, "don't marry for ten years. Not with such eyes and such lips," she said, passing her hand over the flushed face of the young man. "I know what I'm speaking of. Life's a very big world when you're alone, and a very small patch when you're married. Wait. Think over what I've said, Teddy."