The gentleman’s mechanical assent provoked the lady’s smile.

But Wilfrid was torn between a profound admiration of her and the galling reflection that until she had named the engagement, none had virtually existed which diplomacy, aided by time and accident, might not have stopped.

“You must be aware that I am portionless,” she continued.  “I have—­let me name the sum—­a thousand pounds.  It is some credit to me that I have had it five years and not spent it.  Some men would think that a quality worth double the amount.  Well, you will make up your mind to my bringing you no money;—­I have a few jewels.  En revanche, my habits are not expensive.  I like a horse, but I can do without one.  I like a large house, and can live in a small one.  I like a French cook, and can dine comfortably off a single dish.  Society is very much to my taste; I shall indulge it when I am whipped at home.”

Wilfrid took her hand and pressed his lips to the fingers, keeping his face ponderingly down.  He was again so divided that the effort to find himself absorbed all his thinking faculties.

At last he muttered:  “A lieutenant’s pay!”—­expecting her to reply, “We can wait,” as girls do that find it pleasant to be adored by curates, Then might follow a meditative pause—­a short gaze at her, from which she could have the option of reflecting that to wait is not the privilege of those who have lived to acquire patience.  The track he marked out was clever in a poor way; perhaps it was not positively unkind to instigate her to look at her age:  but though he read character shrewdly, and knew hers pretty accurately, he was himself too much of a straw at the moment to be capable of leading-moves.

“We can make up our minds, without great difficulty, to regard the lieutenant’s pay as nothing at all,” was Lady Charlotte’s answer.  “You will enter the Diplomatic Service.  My interest alone could do that.  If we are married, there would be plenty to see the necessity for pushing us.  I don’t know whether you could keep the lieutenancy; you might.  I should not like you to quit the Army:  an opening might come in it.  There’s the Indian Staff—­the Persian Mission:  they like soldiers for those Eastern posts.  But we must take what we can get.  We should, anyhow, live abroad, where in the matter of money society is more sensible.  We should be able to choose our own, and advertize tea, brioche, and conversation in return for the delicacies of the season.”

“But you, Charlotte—­you could never live that life!” Wilfrid broke in, the contemplation of her plain sincerity diminishing him to himself.  “It would drag you down too horribly!”

“Remorse at giving tea in return for dinners and balls?”

“Ah! there are other things to consider.”

She blushed unwontedly.

Something, lighted by the blush, struck him as very feminine and noble.

“Then I may flatter myself that you love me?” he whispered.