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She
glanced
at
Clayton
out
of
the
corner
of
her
eye
.
Was
not
here
a
man
trained
in
the
same
school
of
environment
in
which
she
had
been
trained
--
a
man
with
social
position
and
culture
such
as
she
had
been
taught
to
consider
as
the
prime
essentials
to
congenial
association
?
Did
not
her
best
judgment
point
to
this
young
English
nobleman
,
whose
love
she
knew
to
be
of
the
sort
a
civilized
woman
should
crave
,
as
the
logical
mate
for
such
as
herself
?
Could
she
love
Clayton
?
She
could
see
no
reason
why
she
could
not
.
Jane
was
not
coldly
calculating
by
nature
,
but
training
,
environment
and
heredity
had
all
combined
to
teach
her
to
reason
even
in
matters
of
the
heart
.
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That
she
had
been
carried
off
her
feet
by
the
strength
of
the
young
giant
when
his
great
arms
were
about
her
in
the
distant
African
forest
,
and
again
today
,
in
the
Wisconsin
woods
,
seemed
to
her
only
attributable
to
a
temporary
mental
reversion
to
type
on
her
part
--
to
the
psychological
appeal
of
the
primeval
man
to
the
primeval
woman
in
her
nature
.
If
he
should
never
touch
her
again
,
she
reasoned
,
she
would
never
feel
attracted
toward
him
.
She
had
not
loved
him
,
then
.
It
had
been
nothing
more
than
a
passing
hallucination
,
super-induced
by
excitement
and
by
personal
contact
.
Excitement
would
not
always
mark
their
future
relations
,
should
she
marry
him
,
and
the
power
of
personal
contact
eventually
would
be
dulled
by
familiarity
.
Again
she
glanced
at
Clayton
.
He
was
very
handsome
and
every
inch
a
gentleman
.
She
should
be
very
proud
of
such
a
husband
.
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And
then
he
spoke
--
a
minute
sooner
or
a
minute
later
might
have
made
all
the
difference
in
the
world
to
three
lives
--
but
chance
stepped
in
and
pointed
out
to
Clayton
the
psychological
moment
.
"
You
are
free
now
,
Jane
,
"
he
said
.
"
Wo
n't
you
say
yes
--
I
will
devote
my
life
to
making
you
very
happy
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
she
whispered
.