here" (her hand indicated where), "and we will
speak of it--reasonably."

Her hand remained suspended, enjoining obedience.

Anthony, perplexed, dashed a little, obeyed, and stood before her.

"We must be reasonable," she said. "I meant nothing. If I seemed
moved, it was because--oh, because I was so taken by surprise, I
suppose."

She was getting herself in hand. She looked at him quite fearlessly
now, with eyes that pretended to forget they had ever been complaisant.

"The Count of Sampaolo," she argued calmly, "is not free to marry whom
he will. He has his inheritance to regain, his mission to fulfil. I
will never allow myself to be made an obstacle to that. He must marry
no one but his cousin. I will never stand between him and her--between
him and what is equally his interest and his duty."

But Anthony, too, was getting himself in hand.

"Look here," he said, with some peremptoriness. "You may just once for
all eliminate my cousin from your calculations. I beg you to
understand that even if you did n't exist, there could be no question
of my cousin. No earthly consideration could induce me to make any
sort of terms with that branch of my family--let alone a marriage.
So!" A wave of the hand dismissed his cousin for ever to Crack-limbo.
"But as you do exist, and as I happen to love you, and as I happen to
have discovered--what I could never wildly have dared to hope--that you
are not utterly indifferent to me, I may tell you that I intend to
marry _you--you--you_. You imperial, adorable woman! You!"

Susanna hastily turned her eyes down the avenue.

"In fact," Anthony added, with serene presumption, "I have the honour
to apprise you of our engagement."

She could n't repress a nervous little laugh. Then she rose.

"They 'll be expecting me at the house," she said, and moved in that
direction.

"I 'm waiting for your congratulations," said he, walking beside her.

She gave another little laugh. And neither spoke again until they had
reached the hall door, which he opened for her.

"Well?" he asked.

"Come back after luncheon," said she. "Come back at three o'clock--and
I will tell you something."

XVI

"Own up--and name the day," said Miss Sandus, when she had heard
Susanna's story. "There 's nothing left for you to do, my dear, but to
make a clean breast of it, and name the happy day."

They were in the billiard-room, after luncheon. Miss Sandus was
sipping coffee, whi