TWENTY-ONEFOR the last hour at the Báthori and during our homeward ride in the carriage, Anthony’s exultation took a different shape, or at least had a different aspect. It was less solemn and while it was more intimate, I had the feeling it was less inspirational. I thought it mainly a shedding of his public-school reserve as his skin and body and mind became flushed with wine.
He began to reveal to me not his most deep but his most practiced prides and ideals. Thereby I had a chance, this soon, to find out what he expected in a wife. I did not know when again he would be so voluble; and perfectly clear-headed now, I marked him well! I had known what I was doing when I accepted his proposal made on noble impulse, and must meet his terms. He could not make compromises, but I could. He wou
