gasped.

She looked at her employer thoughtfully.

"He doesn't look worth it, does he?" she said, with a queer little
smile. "I happen to care for him, though--that's all."

Monsieur de Founcelles shrugged his shoulders. He knew men and women,
and for the present he accepted defeat. He sighed heavily.

"I congratulate our friend, and I envy him," he said. "If ever you
should change your mind, Mademoiselle--"

"It is our privilege, isn't it?" she remarked, with a brilliant smile.
"If I do, I shall certainly let you know."

On the way home, Peter Ruff was genial--Miss Brown silent. He had
escaped from a difficult position, and his sense of gratitude toward his
companion was strong. He showed her many little attentions on the
voyage which sometimes escaped him. From Dover, they had a carriage to
themselves.

"Peter," Miss Brown said, after he had made her comfortable, "when is it
to be?"

"When is what to be?" he asked, puzzled.

"Our marriage," she answered, looking at him for a moment in most
bewildering fashion and then suddenly dropping her eyes.

Peter Ruff returned her gaze in blank amazement.

"What do you mean, Violet?" he exclaimed.

"Just what I say," she answered, composedly. "When are we going to be
married?"

Peter Ruff frowned.

"What nonsense!" he said. "We are not going to be married. You know that
quite well."

"Oh, no, I don't!" she declared, smiling at him in a heavenly fashion.
"At your request I have told Monsieur de Founcelles that we were
engaged. Incidentally, I have refused two hundred and fifty thousand
francs and, I believe, an admirer, for your sake. I declared that I was
going to marry you, and I must keep my word."

Peter Ruff began to feel giddy.

"Look here, Violet," he said, "you know very well that we arranged all
that between ourselves."

"Arranged all that?" she repeated, with a little laugh. "Perhaps we did.
You asked me to marry you, and you posed as my fiancee. You kept it up
just as long as you--it suits me to keep it up a little longer."

"Do you mean to say--do you seriously mean that you expect me to marry
you?" he asked, aghast.

"I do," she admitted. "I have meant you to for some time, Peter!"

She was very alluring, and Peter Ruff hesitated. She held out her hands
and leaned towards him. Her muff fell to the floor. She had raised her
veil, and a faint perfume of violets stole into the carriage. Her lips
were a little parted, her eyes were saying unu