"When did it happen?"
"What time did she come into your office the other day?"
"It must have been after eleven."
"Then it happened about eleven-fifteen." Pembroke's eyes were dancing.
"Do you--er--think there are any others?"
"Thousands," said I, "only--" I turned the end of my cigar around to
see if the light had proved effective.
"Only what?"
"Only she won't have them."
"Then there is really a chance?"
"When a woman is not married there is always a chance," said I, wisely.
"But let me tell you, cousin mine, she has a very high ideal. The man
who wins her must be little less than a demigod and a little more than
a man. Indeed, her ideal is so high that I did not reach it by a good
foot."
Pembroke looked surprised. "She--ah--rejected--"
"I did not say that I had proposed to her," said I.
"If you haven't, why haven't you?"
"It is strange." As his face assumed an anxious tinge, I laughed. "My
dear relative, go ahead and win her, if you can; you have my best
wishes. She is nothing to me. There was a time--ah, well, we all can
look back and say that.
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