“Is she?” I asked quietly.

“Yes—­I’m very fond of her.”

“Are you?” still quietly.

“Yes.”  He walked the floor jerkily, made a false start or so and then brought up before me with an air of decision.  “I—­I’m sorry you don’t like her, Roger.  I—­I should be truly grieved if I—­I thought you meant it.  For I intend some day to ask her to be my—­my—­wife.”

It was as bad as that?  I dropped pretense and the newspaper, folding my arms and regarding him steadily.

“Isn’t this decision—­er—­rather sudden?” I asked evenly.

“I’ve loved her from the first moment I saw her,” he exclaimed.  “She is everything, everything that a woman should be.  Amiable, charitable, beautiful, talented, intellectual.”  He paused and threw out his arms with an appealing gesture.  “I can’t understand why you don’t see it, Roger, why you can’t see her as I see her.”

I was beginning to realize that the situation was one to be handled with discretion.  He was in a frame of mind where active opposition would only add fuel to his flame.

“I’m sorry that I’ve grown to be so critical, Jerry.  You forget that I’ve never much cared for the sex.”

It seemed that this was just the reply to restore him to partial sanity, for his face broke in a smile.

“I forgot, old Dry-as-dust.  You don’t like ’em—­don’t like any of ’em.  That’s different.  But you will like Marcia.  You shall.  Why, Roger, she’s an angel.  You couldn’t help liking her.”

I smiled feebly.  My acquaintance with decadent angels had been limited.  I turned the subject adroitly.

“Have you discovered who Una is?” I asked.

“No.  Marcia wouldn’t tell me.  She only laughed at me, but I really wanted to know.  She was a nice girl, Roger, and I’d hate to have her shown in a false light.  Not that Marcia would do that, of course, but girls are queer.  I think she really resented our acquaintance.  I can’t imagine why.”

“Nor I,” I said shortly.  “She doesn’t own you, does she?”

He looked up at me with a blank expression.

“No, I suppose not,” he said slowly.

I followed up my advantage swiftly.

“It’s rather curious, Jerry, this attraction Miss Van Wyck has for you.  A moment ago you were chivalrous enough in your hope that Una’s identity would not be discovered.  Was this chivalry genuine?  Were you sorry on Una’s account or on your own?  I really want to know.  You liked Una, Jerry.  Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—­”

“She seemed a very interesting, a fine, even a noble creature.  The thought of a girl doing the sort of things she was doing made you reproach yourself for your idleness—­your cowardice, I think you called it.  Now what I’d like to discover is whether you’ve quite forgotten the impression she made—­the ideal she left in your mind?”

“Of course not.  My ideals are still the same.  I’ve tried to tell you that I’m going to put them into practice,” he muttered.