“And at the same time,” went on Mr. Lindsay, as he moved his chair a little nearer, so that, under cover of the music, he could speak without being overheard, “to speak to you on a subject which is—­is—­in fact, very near my heart.”

This was worse than Doreen had expected.  She glanced round at him with rather a frightened expression.  “Oh, don’t let us talk about anything—­anything serious now,” said she.  “Just when we shall be going downstairs to—­to dance—­in a few minutes.”

It was a very inconsequent objection to make, and Mr. Lindsay simply ignored it.

“It is, in fact, about myself that I wish to speak, Miss Wedmore,” he pursued relentlessly.  “You cannot have failed to notice what a—­what a deep interest I take in all that concerns you.  And latterly I have flattered myself that—­”

“But people should never flatter themselves about anything!” cried Doreen, desperately, as she suddenly laid her hands in her lap and turned from the piano to face the worst.  “Now I’ll give you an example.  I flattered myself a little while ago that a man cared a great deal about me—­a man I cared a great deal for myself.  And all the while he didn’t; or, at least, I am afraid he didn’t.  And yet, you know, I can’t help hoping that perhaps I didn’t only flatter myself, after all; that perhaps he will come back some day and tell me I was right.”

Mr. Lindsay heard her in silence, with his mild eyes fixed on the carpet.  But when she had finished he looked up again, and she was shocked to find that the gentle obstinacy which had been in his face before was there still.

“I am, indeed, sorry for your disappointment,” he said sweetly.  “Or rather I should be if it were such a one that you could not hope to—­to—­in fact, to get over it.  But—­but these are trials which may be, perhaps, only sent to show that you, even you, happily placed as you are and gifted of the Almighty, are human, after all, and not beyond suffering.  And—­and it may give you an opportunity of seeing that there are others who can appreciate you better, and who would only be too glad to—­to—­to—­”

“To step into his shoes!” finished Doreen for him, with a sigh.  “I know what you were going to say, and if you won’t be stopped, I suppose I must hear you out.  But, oh, dear, I do wish you wouldn’t!”

He was not to be put off like that.  In fact, he was not to be put off by any available means.  He sighed a little, and persisted.

“I am glad you have guessed what I was going to say, Miss Wedmore, though I should not have put it quite in that way.  And why should you not want to hear it?  I should have thought that even you must be not quite indifferent to any man’s honest feelings of esteem and admiration toward you!”

Doreen was looking at him helplessly, with wide-open eyes.  Did he really think any girl was ever moved by this sort of address, deliberately uttered, with the words well chosen, well considered?  As different as possible from the abrupt, staccato method used by Dudley in the dear old days!