“We never will quarrel, my darling,” quoth Adela softly.  “Unless—­” she added.

Wilfrid kissed her forehead.

“Unless what?”

“Well, then, you must tell me who it is that talks of me in that objectionable manner; I do not like it.”

“Shall I convey that intimation?”

“I choose to ask, simply that I may defend myself.”

“I choose to keep him buried, then, simply to save his life.”

Adela made a mouth, and Wilfrid went on:  “By the way, I want you to know Lady Charlotte; you will take to one another.  She likes you, already—­says you want dash; but on that point there may be two opinions.”

“If dash,” said Adela, quite beguiled, “—­that is, dash!—­what does it mean?  But, if Lady Charlotte means by dash—­am I really wanting in it?  I should define it, the quality of being openly natural without vulgarity; and surely...!”

“Then you two differ a little, and must meet and settle your dispute.  You don’t differ about Besworth:  or, didn’t.  I never saw a woman so much in love with a place as she is.”

“A place?” emphasized Adela.

“Don’t be too arch.  I comprehend.  She won’t take me minus Besworth, you may be sure.”

“Did you, Wilfrid!—­but you did not—­offer yourself as owner of Besworth?”

Wilfrid kept his eyes slanting on the floor.

“Now I see why you should still wish it,” continued Adela.  “Perhaps you don’t know the reason which makes it impossible, or I would say—­Bacchus! it must be compassed.  You remember your old schoolboy oath which you taught me?  We used to swear always, by Bacchus!”

Adela laughed and blushed, like one who petitions pardon for this her utmost sin, that is not regretted as it should be.

“Mrs. Chump again, isn’t it?” said Wilfrid.  “Pole would be a preferable name.  If she has the ambition, it elevates her.  And it would be rather amusing to see the dear old boy in love.”

Adela gave her under-lip a distressful bite.

“Why do you, Wilfrid—­why treat such matters with levity?”

“Levity?  I am the last to treat ninety thousand pounds with levity.”

“Has she so much?” Adela glanced at him.

“She will be snapped up by some poor nobleman.  If I take her down to the yacht, one of Lady Charlotte’s brothers or uncles will bite; to a certainty.”

“It would be an excellent idea to take her!” cried Adela.

“Excellent! and I’ll do it, if you like.”

“Could you bear the reflex of the woman?”

“Don’t you know that I am not in the habit of sitting on the extreme edge...?”

Adela started, breathing piteously:  “Wilfrid, dear! you want something of me—­what is it?”

“Simply that you should behave civilly to your father’s guest.”

“I had a fear, dear; but I think too well of you to entertain it for a moment.  If civility is to win Besworth for you, there is my hand.”