“Yes?” said Philip.
“Yes,” said Kate, “but do you know what it ought to be? The woman ought to marry beneath herself, and the man above himself; then as much as the woman descends, the man rises, and so——-don't you see?”
She faltered and stopped, and Philip said, “Aren't you talking nonsense,' Kate?”
“Indeed, sir!”
Kate pretended to be angry at the rebuff, and pouted her lips, but her eyes were beaming.
“There is neither above nor below where there is real liking,” said Philip. “If you like any one, and she is necessary to your life, that is the sign of your natural equality. It is God's sign, and all the rest is only man's book-keeping.”
“You mean,” said Kate, trying to keep a grave mouth, “you mean that if a woman belongs to some one she can like, and some one belongs to her, that is being equal, and everything else is nothing? Eh?”
“Why not?” said Philip.
It was music to her, but she wagged her head solemnly and said, “I'm sure you're wrong, Philip. I am, though. Yes, indeed I am. But it's no use arguing. Not against you. Only——”
The glorious choir of love-birds in her bosom were singing so loud that she could say no more, and the irresistible one had his way. After a while, she stuffed something into the fire.