as of course utterly mistaken; she was ten years older,
she was thirty-three, with ten years of successful commercial
experience behind her; she would never be twenty-three again. Still she
was a most desirable woman, and a woman infinitely beyond his deserts.)
Her air of general capability impressed him. And with that there was
mingled a strange softness, a marvellous hint of a concealed wish to
surrender.... Well, she made him feel big and masculine--in brief, a
man.

He regretted the lost ten years. His present way of life seemed
intolerable to him. The new heaven opened its gate and gave glimpses of
paradise. After all, he felt himself well qualified for that paradise.
He felt that he had all along been a woman's man, without knowing it.

'By Jove!' his thought ran. 'At this rate I might propose to her in a
week or two.'

And again--

'Poor old Bobbie!'

A quarter of an hour later, in some miraculous manner, they were more
intimate than they had ever been, much more intimate. He revised his
estimate of the time that must elapse before he might propose to her.
In another five minutes he was fighting hard against a mad impulse to
propose to her on the spot. And then the fight was over, and he had
lost. He proposed to her under the rose-coloured shade of the Welsbach
light.

She drew away, as though shot.

And with the rapidity of lightning, in the silence which followed, he
went back to his original criticism of himself, that he was a fool.
Naturally she would request him to leave. She would accuse him of
effrontery.

Her lips trembled. He prepared to rise.

'It's so sudden!' she said.

Bliss! Glory! Celestial joy! Her words were at least equivalent to an
absolution of his effrontery! She would accept! She would accept! He
jumped up and approached her. But she jumped up too and retreated. He
was not to win his prize so easily.

'Please sit down,' she murmured. 'I must think it over,' she said,
apparently mastering herself. 'Shall you be at chapel next Sunday
morning?'

'Yes,' he answered.

'If I am there, and if I am wearing white roses in my hat, it will
mean--' She dropped her eyes.

'Yes?' he queried.

And she nodded.

'And supposing you aren't there?'

'Then the Sunday after,' she said.

He thanked her in his Hessian style.

'I prefer that way of telling you,' she smiled demurely. 'It will avoid
the necessity for another--so much--you understand?...'

'Quite so, quite so!' he agreed.