I saw he was going to propose again, and prevented it by saying I would only marry a world-improver. He sighed, drummed his fingers on the tablecloth then said I should beware of men who talked about improving the world—many used such talk to entrap women of my sort. “What sort is that?” I asked, interested. He looked away from me and said coldly, “The brave and kind sort who feel generous to the miserable of every class and country—generous also to the cold, rich and selfish.”
