"Did it make matters any better to force that drunken cad into a marriage?" asked Quarren coldly.
"It makes another marriage possible for Strelsa."
Quarren gazed out across the country where a fine misty rain was still falling. Acres of clover stretched away silvered with powdery moisture; robins and bluebirds covered the soaked lawns, and their excited call-notes prophesied blue skies.
"It doesn't make any difference one way or the other," said Quarren, half to himself. "She will go on in the predestined orbit——"
"Not if a stronger body pulls her out of it."
"There is nothing to which she responds—except what I have not."
"Make what you do possess more powerful, then."
"What do I possess?"
"Kindness. And also manhood, Ricky. Don't you?"
"Perhaps so—now—after a fashion.... But I am not the man who could ever attract her——"