He laughed. “Well, it’s quite obvious what you were going to say.”
She bit her lip and colored, with a flush of anger.
“I suppose you think me a fool,” she said.
“I don’t. I admire you. I think an engagement is sacred—of course. But what I meant was that often men are carried away—in a moment—by a look or a gesture—by anything. And I can’t exactly blame them for it. I can’t see how a man is expected to live up to his ideal, in a case like that.”
“No.” She seemed to ponder the question carefully. “But don’t you see, it’s the woman’s fault—when men are carried away?”
They looked at each other, then, each recognizing the potentialities of their own situation. The look was intense. It sent a flush across Helen’s cheek.
“Perhaps you are engaged. How little I know about you! Are you?”
He hesitated. “No,” he said at length. What did it matter?—this one evening!
“Ah then,” she replied, “the sky’s the limit.”