to the rest of the world, and reserve taunts of coldness and treachery
for me?"

"No, no," she said, angelic again. "You have taken me up wrongly. I did
not mean to taunt you."

"You conceal your meaning as skilfully as--according to you--I have
concealed mine. Good-morning."

"Are you going already?"

"Do you care one bit for me, Marian?"

"I do indeed. Believe me, you are one of my special friends."

"I do not want to be _one_ of your friends. Will you be my wife?"

"Sholto!"

"Will you be my wife?"

"No. I----"

"Pardon me. That is quite sufficient. Good-morning."

The moment he interrupted her, a change in her face shewed she had a
temper. She did not move a muscle until she heard the house door close
behind him. Then she ran upstairs to the drawing-room, where Miss
McQuinch was still practising.