The Return of Ram Juna

"That sounds fairly well," said Mr. Early wearily, and he dismissed the
henchman and settled himself in a particularly benevolent arm-chair, in
front of a cheerfully-roaring fire. The place was a remote room,
decorated not for public inspection but for comfort. Mr. Early was
tired. A certain new question had been waiting in the antechambers of
his mind, and to-night he determined to give it leisurely attention;
for of late it had several times been borne in him that he was getting
along in years and that if he did not intend to die a bachelor, it
behooved him to move swiftly. The thought had been quickened into
livelier vitality when, at a dinner a few nights before, he had watched
the face and studied the figure of Miss Madeline Elton.

She was certainly a rare creature. There was a verve, a magnetic quality
to her, that he hardly remembered before. Her beauty, her nobility, her
purity he felt to be the artistic attributes of womanhood. No, he not
only admired them, they charmed him.

"Yes," said Mr. Early. "By Jove, if she'd lift her little finger at me I
believe I'd make a fool of myself over her! And why shouldn't I? Why
shouldn't I let myself go? I've got everything else now. A woman of her
bigness likes a man who can do things and who controls other men. By
Heaven, I believe we were made for each other!"

Mr. Early grew so excited by the strength of his new passion that he
sprang to his feet and walked up and down to luxuriate in the idea.