‘Oh, please let me alone!’ cried Ronald:  ’I’ve come to say something unpleasant; and how on earth can I do it, if you don’t give a fellow a chance?  It’s about my sister, as I said.  You can see for yourself that it can’t be allowed to go on.  It’s compromising; it don’t lead to anything; and you’re not the kind of man (you must feel it yourself) that I can allow my female relatives to have anything to do with.  I hate saying this, St. Ives; it looks like hitting a man when he’s down, you know; and I told the Major I very much disliked it from the first.  However, it had to be said; and now it has been, and, between gentlemen, it shouldn’t be necessary to refer to it again.’

’It’s compromising; it doesn’t lead to anything; not the kind of man,’ I repeated thoughtfully.  ’Yes, I believe I understand, and shall make haste to put myself en regle.’  I stood up, and laid my segar down.  ‘Mr. Gilchrist,’ said I, with a bow, ’in answer to your very natural observations, I beg to offer myself as a suitor for your sister’s hand.  I am a man of title, of which we think lightly in France, but of ancient lineage, which is everywhere prized.  I can display thirty-two quarterings without a blot.  My expectations are certainly above the average:  I believe my uncle’s income averages about thirty thousand pounds, though I admit I was not careful to inform myself.  Put it anywhere between fifteen and fifty thousand; it is certainly not less.’

‘All this is very easy to say,’ said Ronald, with a pitying smile.  ‘Unfortunately, these things are in the air.’

‘Pardon me,—­in Buckinghamshire,’ said I, smiling.

’Well, what I mean is, my dear St. Ives, that you can’t prove them,’ he continued.  ’They might just as well not be:  do you follow me?  You can’t bring us any third party to back you.’

‘Oh, come!’ cried I, springing up and hurrying to the table.  ’You must excuse me!’ I wrote Romaine’s address.  ’There is my reference, Mr. Gilchrist.  Until you have written to him, and received his negative answer, I have a right to be treated, and I shall see that you treat me, as a gentleman.’  He was brought up with a round turn at that.

‘I beg your pardon, St. Ives,’ said he.  ’Believe me, I had no wish to be offensive.  But there’s the difficulty of this affair; I can’t make any of my points without offence!  You must excuse me, it’s not my fault.  But, at any rate, you must see for yourself this proposal of marriage is—­is merely impossible, my dear fellow.  It’s nonsense!  Our countries are at war; you are a prisoner.’

‘My ancestor of the time of the Ligue,’ I replied, ’married a Huguenot lady out of the Saintonge, riding two hundred miles through an enemy’s country to bring off his bride; and it was a happy marriage.’

‘Well!’ he began; and then looked down into the fire, and became silent.

‘Well?’ I asked.

‘Well, there’s this business of—­Goguelat,’ said he, still looking at the coals in the grate.