“I was going to ask if you would marry me—­or rather, if you would promise to—­or rather, if you would make believe to marry me.  I thought that, under the circumstances, it was a justifiable thing to do, for I fancied your future, as well as mine, was at stake.  Seeing our friend’s condition, it appeared to me that a formal engagement between us would be a kindness to her, and involve no serious consequences for us.  But the case is altered.  You being secure against Lady Ogram’s displeasure, I have, of course, no right to ask you to take a part in such a proceeding—­which naturally you would feel to be unworthy of you.  All I have to do is to thank you for your efforts on my behalf.  Who knows?  I may hold my own at Hollingford.  But at Rivenoak it’s all over with me.”

He stood up, and assumed an attitude of resigned dignity, smiling to himself.  But Constance kept her seat, her eyes on the ground.

“I believe you were going down on Saturday?” she said.

“So it was arranged.  Well, I mustn’t stay—­”

Constance rose, and he offered his hand.

“Between us, it makes no difference, I hope?” said Dyce, with an emphasised effort of cheeriness.  “Unless you think me a paltry fellow, ready to do anything to get on?”

“I don’t think that,” replied Constance, quietly.

“But you feel that what I was going to ask would have been rather a severe test of friendship?”

“Under the circumstances, I could have pardoned you.”

“But you wouldn’t have got beyond forgiveness?”

Constance smiled coldly, her look wandering.

“How can I tell?”

“But—­oh, never mind!  Good-bye, for the present.”

He pressed her hand again, and turned away.  Before he had reached the door, Constance’s voice arrested him.

“Mr. Lashmar—­”

He looked at her as if with disinterested inquiry.

“Think well before you take any irreparable step.  It would be a pity.”

Dyce moved towards her again.

“Why, what choice have I?  The position is impossible.  If you hadn’t said those unlucky words about being so sure—­”

“I don’t see that they make the slightest difference,” answered Constance, her eyebrows raised.  “If you had intended a genuine offer of marriage—­yes, perhaps.  But as all you meant was to ask me to save the situation, with no harm to anybody, and the certainty of giving great pleasure to our friend—­”

“You see it in that light?” cried Lashmar, flinging away his hat.  “You really think I should be justified?  You are not offended?”

“I credit myself with a certain measure of common sense,” answered Constance.

“Then you will allow me to tell Lady Ogram that there is an engagement?”

“You may tell her so, if you like.”

He seized her hand, and pressed his lips upon it.  But, scarce had he done so, when Constance drew it brusquely away.