CROCKSTEAD [Turning to her.] I wonder why women are always so evasive?

ALINE.  With your permission we will not discuss the sex.  You and I are too old to be cynical, and too young to be appreciative.  And besides, it is a rule of mine, whenever I sit out a dance, that my partner shall avoid the subjects of women—­and golf.

CROCKSTEAD.  You limit the area of conversation.  But then, in this particular instance, I take it, we have not come here to talk?

ALINE. [Coldly.] I beg your pardon!

CROCKSTEAD. [Sitting beside her.] Lady Aline, they are dancing a cotillon in there, so we have half an hour before us.  We shall not be disturbed, for the Duchess, your aunt, has considerately stationed her aged companion in the corridor, with instructions to ward off intruders.

ALINE. [Very surprised.] Mr. Crockstead!

CROCKSTEAD. [Looking hard at her.] Didn’t you know? [ALINE turns aside, embarrassed.] That’s right—­of course you did.  Don’t you know why I have brought you here?  That’s right; of course you do.  The Duchess, your aunt, and the Marchioness, your mother—­observe how fondly my tongue trips out the titles—­smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room.  There will be a notice in the Morning Post to-morrow:  “A Marriage Has Been Arranged Between—­”

ALINE. [Bewildered and offended.] Mr. Crockstead!  This—­this is—­

CROCKSTEAD. [Always in the same quiet tone.] Because I have not yet proposed, you mean?  Of course I intend to, Lady Aline.  Only as I know that you will accept me—­

ALINE. [In icy tones, as she rises.] Let us go back to the ball-room.

CROCKSTEAD. [Quite undisturbed.] Oh, please!  That won’t help us, you know.  Do sit down.  I assure you I have never proposed before, so that naturally I am a trifle nervous.  Of course I know that we are only supers really, without much of a speaking part; but the spirit moves me to gag, in the absence of the stage-manager, who is, let us say, the Duchess—­

ALINE.  I have heard of the New Humour, Mr. Crockstead, though I confess I have never understood it.  This may be an exquisite example—­

CROCKSTEAD.  By no means.  I am merely trying to do the right thing, though perhaps not the conventional one.  Before making you the formal offer of my hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions—­

ALINE. [Fanning herself.] How people exaggerate!  Between six and seven, I heard.

CROCKSTEAD.  Only three at present, but we must be patient.  Before throwing myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know something of the man whom you are about to marry.

ALINE.  That is really most considerate!

CROCKSTEAD.  I have the advantage of you, you see, inasmuch as you have many dear friends, who have told me all about you.