‘Never!’ said Dolly, with his hand again on his heart.

’Then let it be a little dream of your youth,—­that you once met a pretty American girl who was foolish enough to refuse all that you would have given her.’

‘So pretty!  So awfully pretty!’ Thereupon she curtsied.  ’I have seen all the handsome woman in England going for the last ten years, and there has not been one who has made me think that it would be worth me while to get off my perch for her.’

‘And now you would desert your perch for me?’

‘I have already.’

’But you can get up again.  Let it be all a dream.  I know men like to have had such dreams.  And in order that the dream may be pleasant the last word between us shall be kind.  Such admiration from such a one as you is an honour,—­and I will reckon it among my honours.  But it can be no more than a dream.’  Then she gave him her hand.  ‘It shall be so;—­shall it not?’ Then she paused.  ’It must be so, Mr Longstaff.’

‘Must it?’

’That and no more.  Now I wish to go down.  Will you come with me?  It will be better.  Don’t you think it is going to rain?’

Dolly looked up at the clouds.  ’I wish it would with all my heart.’

‘I know you are not so ill-natured.  It would spoil it all.’

‘You have spoiled all.’

’No, no.  I have spoiled nothing.  It will only be a little dream about “that strange American girl, who really did make me feel queer for half an hour”.  Look at that.  A great big drop—­and the cloud has come over us as black as Erebus.  Do hurry down.’  He was leading the way.  ’What shall we do for carriages to get us to the inn?’

‘There’s the summer-house.’

’It will hold about half of us.  And think what it will be to be in there waiting till the rain shall be over!  Everybody has been so good-humoured and now they will be so cross!’

The rain was falling in big heavy drops, slow and far between, but almost black with their size.  And the heaviness of the cloud which had gathered over them made everything black.

‘Will you have my arm?’ said Silverbridge, who saw Miss Boncassen scudding along, with Dolly Longstaff following as fast as he could.

’Oh dear no.  I have got to mind my dress.  There;—­I have gone right into a puddle.  Oh dear!’ So she ran on, and Silverbridge followed close behind her, leaving Dolly Longstaff in the distance.

It was not only Miss Boncassen who got her feet into a puddle and splashed her stockings.  Many did so who were not obliged by their position to maintain good-humour under misfortunes.  The storm had come on with such unexpected quickness that there had been a general stampede to the summer-house.  As Isabel had said, there was comfortable room for not more than half of them.  In a few minutes people were crushed who never ought to be crushed.  A Countess for whom treble-piled sofas were hardly