iger, at Lancaster
Gate. And for three days, ever since her arrival at Lancaster Gate, I had
seen the possibility of losing her.

Otherwise you would have said that if ever there was a spontaneous and
unexpected performance, it was my proposal to Norah Thesiger.

But no; it seemed that it had been arranged for me by Jevons, planned
with his customary deliberation and calculation long ago. This may have
been the reason why Norah said she wouldn't tell Viola and Jimmy about it
herself; she'd rather I did.

I thought: I shan't have to tell them till to-morrow. I had to take Norah
to Lancaster Gate in a taxi, and I walked back across the Serpentine
between Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, spinning out the time so that
Viola and Jimmy might be in bed when I got to Edwardes Square.

I found them sitting up for me in Jimmy's study.

I dreaded telling them more than I can say. I don't know with what
countenance a man can come and tell the woman he has loved (and proposed
to three times running) that he has consoled himself with her younger
sister. I wanted to avoid every appearance of a fatuous triumph in my
success with Norah. And after sticking for four years to my vow of
everlasting devotion to Mrs. Jevons I shrank from the confession of a new
allegiance. On the other hand, I owed it to Norah to declare myself
happy without any airs of deprecation and contrition. And I had certain
obligations to the Truth. Why I should have supposed that the Truth
should have been disagreeable to Mrs. Jevons Heaven only knows. I suppose
these scruples are the last illusions of our egoism. Still, I think that
only an impudent egoist like Jevons could have carried off such an
embarrassment with any brilliance.

As it happened it was taken out of my hands. Jimmy, who had foreseen the
thing itself, foresaw also my predicament and provided for it. As I came
into the room he said, "It's all right, old man. You haven't got to tell
us. We know all about it."

I looked at Viola. She was sitting on part of Jimmy's chair, with her arm
round his shoulder.

"Did Norah tell you, after all?" I said.

Viola pushed out her chin at me and shook her head.

"No, Furny dear, she didn't tell me a thing. It was your face."

"Don't you believe her," Jimmy said. "Your face hasn't anything to do
with it. Your face is a tomb of secrets--a beautiful, white tomb. And
_you_ are all rectitude and discretion. We knew it ages ago."

"How could you possibly kn