“What people you are!”

“Rather horrid, aren’t we?  Did Laura keep telling you what a wonderful advantage it would be for you to be one of us?  I wish I could have seen your face.”

“Yes, she did say something of the advantages of belonging to a group like this.  Do you know what any man who married you ought to do with you,” he added with sudden vigor.  “He ought to take you to the smallest, ugliest, deadest town he could find and keep you there five years.”

“Thank you,” she said.  “You have achieved the impossible.  You have made Ned seem quite exciting.  Hitherto I have taken New York for granted, but now I shall add it to his positive advantages.  But you haven’t heard yet what it is I want you to do.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to make me a well authenticated offer of marriage before you go for good.”

“Miss Fenimer, I have the honor to ask you to marry me.”

“I regret so much, Mr. Riatt, that a previous attachment prevents my accepting—­but, my dear man, that isn’t at all what I mean.  Do you suppose Wickham and Nancy will believe me just because I walk out of this room and say you asked me to marry you?  No, we must have some proof to offer.”

“Something in writing?”

She hesitated.

“No,” she said, “one really can’t go about with a framed proposal like a college degree.  I want a public demonstration.”

“Something with a band or a phonograph?”

She was evidently thinking it out—­or wished to appear to be.  “Not quite that either.  This would be more like it.  Suppose I send for Nancy to come here now and consult with me as to whether I shall accept your offer or not.  If I told her before you, she could hardly refuse to believe it.  And you would be safe, for there isn’t the least doubt what advice she will give me.”

“You think she will advise you against me?”

Christine nodded.  “She will try to save you from the awful fate she is reserving for her brother.”  She touched the bell.  “Do you feel nervous?”

“A trifle,” he answered, and indeed he did, for he knew better than Christine could, how strange this coming interview would appear to Mrs. Almar after the conversation before lunch.  He consoled himself, however, by the thought that train-time was drawing near, “and then, please heaven,” he said to himself, “I need never see any of them again.”

“Isn’t it strange,” began Miss Fenimer, and then as a servant appeared in the doorway:  “Oh, will you please ask Mrs. Almar to come here for a few minutes and speak to me.  Tell her it is very important.  Isn’t it strange,” she went on, when the man had gone, “that I’m not a bit nervous, and yet I have so much more at stake than you have.”

“You have a good deal clearer notion of your role than I.”

“Your role is easy.  You confirm everything I say, and contrive to look a little depressed at the end.  Nothing could be simpler.”