“How is Ronnie?” she said.

He laughed a little at the hasty question.

“Ronnie is quite well, and sends his love.  He is going to have a five days’ leave next week to come and see you.  It would have been this week, but for me.”

Hope looked up at him enquiringly.

“You see,” he quietly explained, “I was coming myself, and—­it will seem odd to you, of course—­I didn’t want Ronnie.”

Hope was silent.  There was something in his manner that baffled her.

“Selfish of me, wasn’t it?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Hope.

“It was, I assure you,” he returned; “sheer selfishness on my part.  Are we going to breakfast on the veranda?  You will have to do the honours, I know.  Mrs. Latimer is still in bed.”

Hope sat down thoughtfully.  She had never seen Major Baring in this light-hearted mood.  She would have enjoyed it, but for the thought of Ronnie.

“Wasn’t he disappointed?” she asked presently.

“Horribly,” said Baring.  “He turned quite green when he heard.  I don’t think I had better tell you what he said.”

He was watching her quietly across the table, and she knew it.  After a moment she raised her eyes.

“Yes; tell me what he said, Major Baring!” she said.

“Not yet,” said Baring.  “I am waiting to hear you tell me that you are even more bitterly disappointed than he was.”

“I don’t see how I can tell you that,” said Hope, turning her attention to the coffee-urn.

“No?  Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t be very friendly,” she answered gravely.

“Do you know, I almost dared to fancy it was because it wouldn’t be true?” said Baring.

She glanced up at that, and their eyes met.  Though he was smiling a little, there was no mistaking the message his held for her.  She coloured again very deeply, and bent her head to hide it.

He did not keep her waiting.  Very quietly, very resolutely, he leaned towards her across the table, and spoke.

“I will tell you now what your brother said to me, Hope,” he said, his voice half-quizzical, half-tender.  “He’s an impertinent young rascal, but I bore with him for your sake, dear.  He said:  ’Go in and win, old fellow, and I’ll give you my blessing!’ Generous of him, wasn’t it?  But the question is, have I won?”

Yet she could not speak.  Only as he stretched out his hands to her, she laid her own within them without an instant’s hesitation, and suffered them to remain in his close grasp.  When he spoke to her again, his voice was sunk very low.

“How did I come to propose in this idiotic fashion across the breakfast-table?” he said.  “Never mind, it’s done now—­or nearly done.  You mustn’t tremble, dear.  I have been rather sudden, I know.  I should have waited longer; but, under the circumstances, it seemed better to speak at once.  But there is nothing to frighten you.  Just look me in the face and tell me, may I be more than a friend to you?  Will you have me for a husband?” Hope raised her eyes obediently, with a sudden sense of confidence unutterable.  They were full of the quick tears of joy.