“Why should she fall in love with me, or wish to marry me?  What have I done in the world, or what do I expect to do which will compel that admiration and respect which is the basis of true love?”

Those are harsh questions, John Henry Smith.  I tell you I love her; is not that sufficient?  She is not the woman to weigh a man in the same scales with his money, his miles of railroad track, and such material assets.  I would love her if her father were still a section boss.

And I am going to do something in this world.  I propose to show you, John Henry Smith, that I can do something beside play golf.  Am I not doing something now?  Am I not risking practically every dollar I have in the world on my business judgment?  Call it gambling if you will; if so, it is big gambling.  The man who wins must take chances.  Mr. Harding did not become a railway magnate by remaining a section boss.  He is a commanding figure in Wall Street.  I shall be that and more.

Laugh if you will, John Henry Smith; I mean every word of it!

What does Carter do?  He has not done a stroke of work in five years.  He says a man with an income of $100,000 a year has no right to work and strive to increase it.  I claim a man should do something to make a name for himself, and leave a record of which his children and grand-children will be proud.  You watch me, John Henry Smith!  I’ll show you and Miss Harding that I can do something beside play golf.

We have wandered from our subject.  The question is this:  what shall we do in order to ascertain if Miss Harding entertains toward us any sentiment stronger than friendship?  Ask her, you say.  Suppose you ask her.  No, my dear John Henry, that is not the proper step at this time.

I do not set myself up as an authority in matters of love, but I do hold that no wise man ever proposed to a good and true woman without knowing in advance that she would accept him.  Love has its secret code, and Nature gives the key to its discerning votaries.  I have that key, John Henry Smith.

One need not speak or write in order to send the first timid messages of love; and by the same token the recipient need not even frown in order to tenderly reject the proffered passion.  There are as many words in this unwritten and unspoken vocabulary of love as may be found in lexicons.  Did you know that, John Henry?

The man who fails to avail himself of this silent but eloquent language, and who stupidly assaults a woman with an avowal of an alleged love, deserves to be coldly rejected.  It is as much of an insult or an indiscretion as to walk unheralded and unbidden into a private room.  Never do it, John Henry!

If a man becomes convinced he loves a woman he should tell her by some message in the code which both understand.  He will know if she receives it.  It is not necessary that she answer, “yes.”  If she answer not at all he has achieved a notable victory, but if she promptly signals a decided “no” he has met with irreparable defeat.  That settles it, my dear Smith.