"Oh, the right man!" she answered, with a little laugh which was the nearest approach to a bitter laugh he had ever heard from her. "That 's what they keep telling us. But we may have met the right man, and he 's never found out that he was the right man, or perhaps has n't felt that we were the right woman."
"A man must be a fool if he can't see when a woman cares for him," he answered.
For a moment Letitia looked silently out of the window; then she continued, but without turning her head: "Men seem to think that women can marry any one they want. We have to wait till we 're asked. And the men that ask us are not always the men that we would like the best. Novelists would make you think a girl has nothing to do but make her choice from dozens of suitors who are all crazy about her. But that's not true—not in California, anyway. I 've only had three real offers in my life, and I 've got money, and"—she made a little pause, and then added bravely—"and I 'm handsome."
Gault leaned forward, and, in a sudden élan of admiration for the honest, simple, strong-hearted creature, took her hand.
"Dearest Tishy," he said, "don't do this. Don't make a hasty marriage with a man who is—who is—not worthy of you."
