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“I don’t mean that. I mean once—the once. I somehow feel that you’ve had a great love in your life—a love that has saddened you—has made you put women out of your life.”

He was laughing frankly at her. “What a romancer you are,” cried he. “It’s very evident that you’ve had no experience. If you had, you’d know that isn’t the way of love at all. Anyone who can catch it once can catch it any number of times. It’s a disease, I tell you. You want to fall in love and you proceed to do it, taking whoever happens to be convenient.”

This seemed to content her. “I see you’ve never been in love,” said she. “You’ve simply had experience. I like that. I hate a man who hasn’t had experience. Not that I ever thought you hadn’t—no, indeed. In the first five minutes I knew you I said to myself, ‘Here’s a man who has been over the road.’ I could tell by the way you took hold.”

“Took hold!” cried he.

“That’s it—took hold—made me like you—made me interested in you.”

He looked uncomfortable—glanced at his watch.