to marry you, Mr. Carruthers?" I said. "You
are joking, of course."

"I am not joking. I am perfectly serious. I am ready to carry out my
aunt's wishes. It can be no new idea to you, and you must have worldly
sense enough to realize it would be the best possible solution of your
future. I can show you the world, you know."

He appeared to be extraordinarily good-looking as he stood there, his face
to the dying light. Supposing I took him at his word, after all!

"But what has suddenly changed your ideas since yesterday? You told me you
had come down to make it clear to me that you could not possibly obey her
orders."

"That was yesterday," he said. "I had not really seen you--to-day I think
differently."

"It is just because you are sorry for me; I suppose I seem so lonely," I
whispered, demurely.

"It is perfectly impossible, what you propose to do--to go and live by
yourself at a London hotel--the idea drives me mad."

"It will be delightful--no one to order me about from day to night!"

"Listen," he said, and he flung himself into an arm-chair. "You can marry
me, and I will take you to Paris, or where you want, and I won't order you
about--only I shall keep the other beasts of men from looking at you."

But I told him at once that I thought that would be very dull. "I have
never had the chance of any one looking at me," I said, "and I want to
feel what it is like. Mrs. Carruthers always assured me I was very pretty,
you know, only she said that I was certain to come to a bad end, because
of my type, unless I got married at once, and then if my head was screwed
on it would not matter; but I don't agree with her."

He walked up and down the room impatiently.

"That is just it," he said. "I would rather be the first--I would rather
you began by me. I am strong enough to ward off the rest."

"What does 'beginning by you' mean?" I asked, with great candor. "Old Lord
Bentworth said I should begin with him, when he was here to shoot
pheasants last autumn; he said it could not matter, he was so old; but I
didn't----"

Mr. Carruthers bounded up from his chair.

"You didn't what! Good Lord! what did he want you to do?" he asked,
aghast.

"Well," I said, and I looked down for a moment; I felt stupidly shy. "He
wanted me to kiss him."

Mr. Carruthers looked almost relieved. It was strange.

"The old wretch! Nice company my aunt seems to have kept!" he exclaimed.
"Could she not take better care of you than th