nd I looked up. "I saw
several sorts at Tryland, and Lady Verningham has told me of the rest, and
I know you would be no earthly good in that role!"

He laughed, in spite of himself, but he still held my hand.

"Describe their types to me, that I may see which I should be," he said,
with great seriousness.

"There is the Mackintosh kind--humble and 'titsy pootsy,' and a sort of
under-nurse," I said.

"That is not my size, I fear."

"Then there is the Montgomerie--selfish and bullying, and near about
money."

"But I am not Scotch."

"No--well, Lord Kestervin was English, and he fussed and worried, and
looked out trains all the time."

"I will have a groom of the chambers."

"And they were all casual and indifferent to their poor wives--and
boresome--and bored! And one told long stories, and one was stodgy, and
one opened his wife's letters before she was down!"

"Tell me the attributes of a perfect husband, then, that I may learn
them," he said.

"They have to pay all the bills----"

"Well, I could do that."

"And they have not to interfere with one's movements. And one must be able
to make their hearts beat."

"Well, you could do _that_!" and he bent nearer to me. I drew back.

"And they have to take long journeys to the Rocky Mountains for months
together, with men friends."

"Certainly not!" he exclaimed.

"There, you see!" I said; "the most important part you don't agree to.
There is no use talking further."

"Yes, there is! You have not said half enough. Have they to make your
heart beat, too?"

"You are hurting my hand."

He dropped it.

"Have they?"

"Lady Ver said no husband could do that. The fact of their being one kept
your heart quite quiet, and often made you yawn; but she said it was not
necessary, as long as you could make theirs so that they would do all you
asked."

"Then do women's hearts never beat--did she tell you?"

"Of course they beat. How simple you are for thirty years old! They beat
constantly for--oh--for people who are not husbands."

"That is the result of your observations, is it? You are probably right
and I am a fool."

"Some one said at lunch yesterday that a beautiful lady in Paris had her
heart beating for you," I said, looking at him again.

He changed--so very little. It was not a start, or a wince even--just
enough for me to know he felt what I said.

"People are too kind," he said. "But we have got no nearer the point. When
will you marry me?