“I don’t know. I suppose that is a stupid answer. But it is, if I am to be honest, and I am trying very hard to be honest⁠—with you and with myself⁠—the only one I have. I am happy just as I am. I like you and Mr. Cressler and Mr. Corthell⁠—everybody. But, Mr. Jadwin”⁠—she looked him full in the face, her dark eyes full of gravity⁠—“with a woman it is so serious⁠—to be married. More so than any man ever understood. And, oh, one must be so sure, so sure. And I am not sure now. I am not sure now. Even if I were sure of you, I could not say I was sure of myself. Now and then I tell myself, and even poor, dear Aunt Wess’, that I shall never love anybody, that I shall never marry. But I should be bitterly sorry if I thought that was true. It is one of the greatest happinesses to which I look forward, that some day I shall love someone with all my heart and soul, and shall be a true wife, and find my husband’s love for me the sweetest thing in my life. But I am sure that that day has not come yet.”