"You wretch! Would you care for me a little?"
"I care for you more than a little now, as you are perfectly well aware."
She turned and whispered something in his ear. He smiled, but kept silent. Presently she said aloud:
"It would be rather a joke if we were to marry. Now that the idea's got into my head I can't get it out again. It makes little thrills go all over me--dear little thrills. I hope that if ever you do marry me it will be before I have had to resort to any of women's aids to beauty. I should like you to have me just as I am, while I am really at my best and while I can still bear the most searching investigation. My complexion's my own; I use no powder, rouge, or pencil. I haven't a false tooth in my head or even a stopped one. I've only a weeny pad on the top of my head, which is rendered absolutely necessary by the present style of hairdressing--everything about me's true."
"Outside."
"Sir! I dare say we shouldn't make such a very bad pair. Would you--like to marry me?"
"Given an assured position, I would marry you."
"Well, then, I'll tell you what we might do. You might marry Stella, and--dispose of her with some nice painless thing like chloral; and I might marry Tom, and--delicately dispose of him. Then we should both of us have an assured position, and--we could marry."
"There's more in the idea than meets the eye."
She threw the fag-end of her cigarette away from her and laughed.