“And you're such a charming puzzle that I would like to domesticate it and study the eternal mystery at my leisure.”
“Then it's as a diversion that you want me.”
“A thing of beauty and a joy forever, the poet puts it. But diversion if you like. What greater test of charming versatility for a woman than that she remain a diversion to her husband, unstaled by custom and undulled by familiarity?”
After all her father would be pleased to have her marry an American business man. The Powers' millions could easily buy for her a fine old dukedom if she wanted one. At present there was more than one available title-holder on her horizon. But Valencia did not care to take up the responsibilities that go with such a position. She was too indolent to adapt her life to the standards of others—and perhaps too proud. Moreover, it happened that she had had enough of the club man type in the late lamented Van Tyle. This man was a worker. He would not annoy her or interfere with her careless pleasures. Again she asked herself, Why not?
“I suppose you really do like me.” Her face was tilted in gay little appeal.
“I'm not going to tell you how much. It wouldn't be good for discipline in the house.”
Her soft little laugh bubbled over. “We seem to have quite settled it. And I hadn't the slightest notion of agreeing to anything so ridiculous when I ventured that indiscreet remark about an abduction.” She looked up at him with smiling insolence. “You're only an adventurer, you know. I daresay you haven't even paid for the car in which you were going to kidnap me.”
“No,” he admitted cheerfully.
“I wonder what Dad will think of it.”
“He'll thank Heaven you didn't present him with a French or Italian count to support.”