ch doings which I had ever read a stage had
been reached at which the feelings of the performers had been expressed
in action rather than in words. Lalage and I had not got beyond words,
therefore I doubted whether I had really been love-making. I had
certainly got no definite statement from Lalage. She had not murmured
anything in low, sweet tones; nor had she allowed her head to droop
forward upon my breast in a manner eloquent of complete surrender. I was
far from blaming her for this omission. My hammock chair was adjusted
at such an angle that unless she had actually stood on her head I do not
see how she could have laid it against my breast, and if she had done
that her attitude would have been far from eloquent, besides being most
uncomfortable for me. Still the fact remained that I had not got by
word or attitude any clear indication from Lalage that my love-making,
supposing that I had been love-making, was agreeable to her.

Nor could I flatter myself that Lalage was any better off than I was. I
had fully intended to make myself quite clear. The Archdeacon's example
had nerved me. I distinctly remembered the sensation of determining that
this one crisis at least should be brought to a definite issue, but I
was not at all sure that I had succeeded. The gentleman of title whose
exploits filled the three hundred pages of "Sword Play" said: "I love
you and have always loved you more than life"; and though he spoke in
a voice which was hoarse with passion, his meaning must have been
perfectly plain. I had not said, nor could I imagine that I ever should
say, anything half so heroic. Had I said anything at all or was Lalage
as perplexed as I was? This question troubled me, unnecessarily; for, as
it turned out afterward, Lalage was not at all perplexed.

CHAPTER XXII

My mind concentrated on one question: Was I to consider myself as
engaged to be married to Lalage? The phrase, with its flavour of
vulgarity, set my teeth on edge; but no other way of expression
occurred to me and I was too deeply anxious to spend time in pursuit
of elegancies. It was absurd that I could not answer my question. A man
ought to know whether he has or has not committed himself to a proposal
of marriage. The Archdeacon, I felt perfectly certain, knew what he had
done. And I ought to know whether Lalage had accepted or rejected the
proposal. The Archdeacon can have had few if any doubts when Lalage
left him. I made up my mind at last