as true, but then by her own confession Pixie
had no fortune of her own, and had been accustomed to modest means.
Stanor did not say to himself in so many words that he happened to
possess an exceptionally handsome and popular personality, he refused
even to frame a definite thought to that effect; nevertheless the
consciousness was there, and added to his chagrin.

Lounging along the country lanes, his hands thrust deep into his
pockets, Stanor told himself that it was a disappointing old world: a
fellow always imagined that when he got engaged he would have the time
of his life; in books a fellow was represented as walking upon air, in a
condition of rapture too intense for belief--it was disappointing to
find his own experience fall so short of the ideal!

Sweet little Pixie, of course, was a beguiling creature. Stanor would
not admit any shortcomings in his _fiancee_, but he did allow himself to
wonder tentatively if he had spoken too soon: if she were not, perhaps,
a trifle young to understand the meaning of the new claim. The daily
interviews which he had been vouchsafed had been full of interest and
charm, but they had not succeeded in stifling the doubt which had marred
the first minutes of acceptance, for alas! it was when Pixie was the
most affectionate that her lover was most acutely conscious of the
subtle want. And then, as if there was not already enough worry and
trouble, there was the Runkle. ... The Runkle would be bound to put in
his oar!

Stanor had delayed sending word of his engagement to the man who stood
to him in the place of a father, silencing his conscience by the
assertion that there was yet nothing to announce. Until Pixie's
guardians came down from their present unnatural position, there might
be an understanding, but there could not be said to be a formal
engagement.

It was Pixie herself who finally forced him to dispatch the news. It
was Stanor's first experience of arguing a point with a woman, and a
most confusing experience he found it. Pixie invariably agreed with
every separate argument as he advanced it, saw eye to eye with him on
each separate point, sympathised warmly with his scruples, and then at
the very moment when she was expected to say "yes" to the final
decision, said "no," and stuck to it with conviction. Questioned as to
the reason of such inconsistency, she had only one excuse to plead, and
she pled it so often and with such insistence that it seemed easier