A wife she'd make him
for other men to envy. But go slow. He must be cautious.
"You don't happen to care for palaces, do you?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Well, I had a hankering after them myself, till I got to thinking, a
while back, and I've about sized it up that one'd get fat living in
palaces, and soft and lazy."
"Yes, it's nice for a time, but you soon grow tired of it, I imagine,"
she hastened to reassure him. "The world is good, but life should be
many-sided. Rough and knock about for a while, and then rest up
somewhere. Off to the South Seas on a yacht, then a nibble of Paris; a
winter in South America and a summer in Norway; a few months in England--"
"Good society?"
"Most certainly--the best; and then, heigho! for the dogs and sleds and
the Hudson Bay Country. Change, you know. A strong man like you, full
of vitality and go, could not possibly stand a palace for a year. It is
all very well for effeminate men, but you weren't made for such a life.
You are masculine, intensely masculine."
"Think so?"
"It does not require thinking. I know. Have you ever noticed that it
was easy to make women care for you?"
His dubious innocence was superb.
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