ought to," said the Dean. "When a young man converts himself into
a girl's shadow, even although he is her cousin and has been brought
up with her from childhood, people begin to gossip. They gossip even
within the august precincts of a stately cathedral."

"I'm very sorry," said Marmaduke. "I've had the very best intentions."

The Dean smiled.

"What were they?"

"To make her like me a little," replied Marmaduke. Then, feeling that
the Dean was kindly disposed, he blurted out awkwardly: "I hoped that
one day I might ask her to marry me."

"That's what I wanted to know," said the Dean.

"You haven't done it yet?"

"No," said Marmaduke.

"Why don't you?"

"It seems taking such a liberty," replied Marmaduke.

The Dean laughed. "Well, I'm not going to do it for you. My chief
desire is to regularize the present situation. I can't have you two
running about together all day and every day. If you like to ask
Peggy, you have my permission and her mother's."

"Thank you, Uncle Edward," said Marmaduke.

"Let us join the ladies," said the Dean.

In the drawing-room the Dean exchanged glances with his wife. She saw
that he had done as he had been bidden. Marmaduke was not an ideal
husband for a brisk, pleasure-loving modern young woman. But where was
another husband to come from? Peggy had banned the Church. Marmaduke
was wealthy, sound in health and free from vice. It was obvious to
maternal eyes that he was in love with Peggy. According to the Dean,
if he wasn't, he oughtn't to be for ever at her heels. The young woman
herself seemed to take considerable pleasure in his company. If she
cared nothing for him, she was acting in a reprehensible manner. So
the Dean had been deputed to sound Marmaduke.

Half an hour later the young people were left alone. First the Dean
went to his study. Then Mrs. Conover departed to write letters.
Marmaduke advancing across the room from the door which he had opened,
met Peggy's mocking eyes as she stood on the hearthrug with her hands
behind her back. Doggie felt very uncomfortable. Never had he said a
word to her in betrayal of his feelings. He had a vague idea that
propriety required a young man to get through some wooing before
asking a girl to marry him. To ask first and woo afterwards seemed
putting the cart before the horse. But how to woo that remarkably cool
and collected young person standing there, passed his wit.

"Well," she said, "the dear old birds seem very fussy