It's possible that Miss Brooke is more realistic than you are. She may be intelligent enough to know that no matter whom she marries there will be the devil to pay. The difficulties, snags, embarrassments, and complications-I use your words, though I would prefer sharper ones-are in any case inevitable. If she marries a man of her own color and class, the grounds for them will be paltry, ignoble, degrading, and tiresome. If she marries a Negro the grounds will be weighty, worthy, consequential, and diverting. I have never met a woman with so much sense, but there may be one. What if it is Miss Brooke?"

Whipple was shaking his head. "No, sir. Of course that's very clever. It's good talk, but it's talk." He smiled. "My father used to say about a good talker, 'He rides words bareback.' No, sir."

"You're fixed."

"Yes. If you want to put it that way, I am."

"Very well. You remember Mr. Goodwin."

Whipple shot me a glance. "Of course."

"Will you arrange for him to meet Miss Brooke? Perhaps a meal, lunch or dinner, with you, her, and your son? With some plausible pretext?"

He was looking doubtful. "I'm afraid that isn't possible. She knows what I-my attitude. Does Mr. Goodwin have to meet her? And my son?"

"Not necessarily your son. Her, yes. I can't proceed until he has seen her, spoken with her, and if possible danced with her, and reported. This may even settle it. His feeling for attractive young women, his understanding of them, and his talent for gaining their confidence may be all we'll need." He turned. "Archie. Have you a suggestion?"

I nodded. "Sure." He had asked for it. "I meet her, feel her out, understand her, get her confidence, bring her here and install her in the south room, and you seduce her and then marry her. As for the difficulties, snags, embar-"