"Try
some other way."
"What way?"
The girl whispered to him, laughing the while. She was very pretty, very
innocent to look upon.
"Women must be carried by assault, gloriously, as a besieged city is,"
roared Branksome from the other end of the room. "The lover who attempts
to starve them into surrender is a fool, and gets ridiculed for his
pains. What do you say, Rosmore?"
"Nothing. There are many ladies who can explain my methods better than I
can."
Mrs. Dearmer laughed, and desired a lesson forthwith.
"My dear lady, there would be too many lovers to call me to account for
my presumption," Rosmore answered.
"Branksome is right," said Mrs. Dearmer. "Take a woman by force or not
at all. She loves a desperate man. His desperation and overriding of all
convention do homage to her. I never yet met the virtue that could stand
against such an assault."
"She is right, Sydney," whispered the girl to Fellowes, her hands
suddenly clasped round his arm.
Fellowes looked down into her face, and a strange expression came into
his own.
"I believe she is," he said almost passionately. "I believe she is.
There's no woman so virtuous that--"
"None," whispered the girl.
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