Paul threw out his arms in a wide gesture.  “Why—­your servants—­”

She cast the just lighted cigarette into the fire, rose and clapped her hands on his shoulders, her face aflame.  “Forgive me—­I knew it—­there are doubting Thomases everywhere—­and I’m a woman who deals with facts, so that I can use them to the confusion of enemies.  Now I have them.  Ser Federigo’s watch and chain.  Nicht wahr?”

Remember, you who judge this sensible woman of forty-three, that she had fallen in love with Paul in the most unreprehensible way in the world; and if a woman of that age cannot fall in love with a boy sweetly motherwise, what is the good of her?  She longed to prove that her polyhedral crystal of a paragon radiated pure light from every one of his innumerable facets.  It was a matter of intense joy to turn him round and find each facet pure.  There was also much pity in her heart, such as a woman might feel for a wounded bird which she had picked up and nursed in her bosom and healed.  Ursula was loath to let her bird fly forth into the bleak winter.

“My brother and I have been talking about you—­he is your friend, too,” she said, resuming her seat.  “How would it suit you to stay with us altogether?”

Paul started bolt upright in his chair.  “What do you mean?” he asked breathlessly, for the heavens had opened with dazzling unexpectedness.

“In some such position as confidential secretary—­at a decent salary, of course.  We’ve not been able to find a suitable man since Mr. Kinghorne left us in the spring.  He got into Parliament, you know, for Reddington at the by-election—­and we’ve been muddling along with honorary secretaries and typists.  I shouldn’t suggest it to you,” she went on, so as to give him time to think, for he sat staring at her, openmouthed, bewildered, his breath coming quickly—­“I shouldn’t suggest it to you if there were no chances for you in it.  You would be in the thick of public affairs, and an ambitious man might find a path in them that would lead him anywhere.  I’ve had the idea in my head,” she smiled, “for-some time.  But I’ve only spoken to my brother about it this afternoon—­he has been so busy, you see—­and I intended to have another talk with him, so as to crystallize things—­duties, money, and so forth—­before making you any proposal.  I was going to write to you with everything cut and dried.  But”—­she hesitated delicately—­“I’m glad I didn’t.  It’s so much more simple and friendly to talk.  Now, what do you say?”

Paul rose and gripped his hands together and looked again into the fire.  “What can I say?  I could only go on my knees to you—­and that—­”

“That would be beautifully romantic and entirely absurd,” she laughed.  “Anyhow, it’s settled.  Tomorrow we can discuss details.”  She rose and put out her hand.  “Good night, Paul.”

He bowed low.  “My dearest lady,” said he in a low voice, and went and held the door open for her to pass out.