He threw up his hands in dismay. "Don't try," he pleaded. "You could never find a wife to suit me!"
"But I have found one who's sure to suit you."
"You've actually selected her?—you have her waiting for me?"
She nodded, trying to smile back at him now with a deceiving gayety.
"May I know who the fair lady is?"
"Of course. She's—Charlotte! She is just the woman for you, Peter."
"Never," he said promptly. "She is charming and clever and handsome and kind, but—she's not the woman for me."
"Peter"—and Sheila dropped her pretense of playfulness—"Peter, she's all that you need. She'd make a great man of you."
"At this late date?" he inquired a little ruefully. "She'd make a great man of me at forty-six?"
"Yes, she would. Charlotte's very—strong. She could accomplish anything she wished. She'd do much for a man—with a man—if she loved him."