“Oh, Euan, what a boy you are! Had I been any other woman — but let it go. You are as translucent as a woodland brook, and — at times you babble like one, confident that your music pleases everyone who hears it� . I pray you let me judge whether the errant lady be what a poet’s soul would have her� . I am not speaking with any unkind thought or doubt� . But woman must judge woman. It is the one thing no man can ever do for her. And the less he interferes during the judgment the better.”

“Then I’ll say no more,” said I, forcing a smile.

“Oh, say all you please, as long as you do not tell me what you think about her. Tell me facts, not what your romantic heart surmises. And if she were the queen of Sheba in disguise, or if she were a