The pretty brows went up in astonishment.  “Oh!” she said, in quick confusion.  “You heard that too?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” persisted Jeff in his slow, stubborn way.

She shook her head swiftly and vehemently.  “I shall never marry Mr. Chesyl,” she said with determination.

“Where is he?” asked Jeff.

The soft colour rose in her face at the question.  She looked away from him for the first time.  “I don’t quite know where he is.  I believe he is up north somewhere—­in Scotland.”

“He knows what has been happening here?” questioned Jeff.

She made a slight movement as of protest.  “No doubt,” she said in a low voice.

Jeff’s square jaw hardened.  Abruptly he thrust Chesyl out of the conversation.  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.  “That isn’t what I came to talk about.  May I tell you just what I have come for?  Will you give me a patient hearing?”

She turned to him again in renewed surprise.  “Of course,” she said.

His dark eyes were upon her.  “It may not please you,” he said slowly, “though I ask you to believe that it is not my intention to give you offence.”

“But, of course, I know you would not,” she said.

Jeff’s fingers clenched upon his riding-switch.  He spoke with difficulty, but not without a certain native dignity that made him impressive.  “I have come,” he said, “just to say to you that if it is possible that no one in your own world is wanting you, I am wanting you.  All that I have is absolutely at your disposal.  I heard you say—­that day—­that you would like to be a farmer’s wife.  Well—­if you really meant it—­you have your opportunity.”

“Mr. Ironside!” She was gazing at him in wide-eyed amazement.

A dark flush rose in his swarthy face under her eyes, “I had to say it,” he said with heavy deliberation, “though I know I’m only hammering nails into my own coffin.  I had to take my only chance of telling you.  Of course, I know you won’t listen.  I’m not of your sort—­respectable enough, but not quite—­not quite—­” He broke off grimly, and for an instant his teeth showed clenched upon his lower lip.  “But if by any chance, when everything else has failed,” resolutely he went on, “you could bring yourself to think of me—­in that way, I shall always be ready, quite ready, for you.  That’s what I came to say.”

He straightened himself upon the words, and made as if he would turn and leave her.  But Doris was too quick for him.  She moved like a flash.  She came between him and the door.  “Please—­please,” she said, “you mustn’t go yet!”

He stopped instantly and she stood before him breathing quickly, her hand upon the door.

She did not speak again very quickly; she was plainly trying to master considerable agitation.

Jeff waited immovably with eyes unvaryingly upon her.  “I don’t want to hurry you,” he said at last.  “I know, of course, what your answer will be.  But I can wait for it.”