“Not the least in the world!” declared Cicely—­“I rather like it!”

“So good of you!—­so dear!” he said, softly—­“Well!—­’and yet’—­as I have observed, the Muse may, like the Delphic oracle, utter words without apparent signification, which only the skilled proficient at her altar may be able to unravel.  Therefore,—­in this precise manner, my suggestion may be wholly without point,—­or it may not.”

“Please get on with it, whatever it is,”—­urged Cicely, impatiently--"You’re not going to propose to me, are you?  Because, if so, it’s no use.  I’m too young, and I only met you this morning!”

He threw the daisy he had just plucked at her laughing face.

“Goblin, you are delicious!” he averred—­“But the ghastly spectre of matrimony does not at present stand in my path, luring me to the frightful chasms of domesticity, oblivion and despair.  What was it the charming Russian girl Bashkirtseff wrote on this very subject?  ’Me marier et’—–?”

“I can tell you!” exclaimed Cicely—­“It was the one sentence in the whole book that made all the men mad, because it showed such utter contempt for them!  ’Me marier et avoir des enfants?  Mais—­chaque blanchisseuse peut en faire autant!  Je veux la gloire!’ Oh, how I agree with her!  Moi, aussi, je veux la gloire!”

Her dark eyes flamed into passion,—­for a moment she looked almost beautiful.  Adderley stared languidly at her as he would have stared at the heroine of an exciting scene on the stage, with indolent, yet critical interest.

“Goblin incroyable!” he sighed—­“You are so new!—­so fresh!”

“Like salad just gathered,” said Cicely, calming down suddenly from his burst of enthusiasm—­“And what of your ’suggestion’?”

“My suggestion,” rejoined Adderley—­“is one that may seem to you a strange one.  It is even strange to myself!  But it has flashed into my brain suddenly,—­and even so inspiration may affect the dullard.  It is this:  Suppose the Parson fell in love with the Lady, or the Lady fell in love with the Parson?  Either, neither, or both?”

Cicely sat up straight in her chair as though she had been suddenly pulled erect by an underground wire.

“What do you mean?” she asked—­“Suppose the parson fell in love with the lady or the lady with the parson!  Is it a riddle?”

“It may possibly become one;” he replied, complacently—­“But to speak more plainly—­suppose Mr. Walden fell in love with Miss Vancourt, or Miss Vancourt fell in love with Mr. Walden, what would you say?”

“Suppose a Moon-calf jumped over the moon!” said Cicely disdainfully—­“Saint Moses!  Maryllia is as likely to fall in love as I am,—­and I’m the very last possibility in the way of sentiment.  Why, whatever are you thinking of?  Maryllia has heaps of men in, love with her,—­she could marry to-morrow if she liked.”

“Ay, no doubt she could marry—­that is quite common—­but perhaps she could not love!” And Julian waved one hand expressively.  “To love is so new!—­so fresh!”