"Well," said Stanmer, "I think this, at any rate—that you take an extraordinary responsibility in trying to put a man out of conceit of a woman who, as he believes, may make him very happy."
I grasped his arm, and we stopped, going on with our talk like a couple of Florentines.
"Do you wish to marry her?"
He looked away, without meeting my eyes. "It's a great responsibility," he repeated.
"Before Heaven," I said, "I would have married the mother! You are exactly in my situation."
"Don't you think you rather overdo the analogy?" asked poor Stanmer.
"A little more, a little less—it doesn't matter. I believe you are in my shoes. But of course if you prefer it I will beg a thousand pardons and leave them to carry you where they will."
He had been looking away, but now he slowly turned his face and met my eyes. "You have gone too far to retreat; what is it you know about her?"
"About this one—nothing. But about the other— "
