wooing his confidence with a glance.

"No," said John. "It was probably ten minutes, possibly fifteen. But
they passed so quickly, it's really nearer the truth to describe them as
one or two."

Lady Blanchemain shifted her sunshade, and screwed herself half round,
so as to face him, her soft old eyes full of smiling scrutiny and
suspicion.

"I never can tell whether or not you're serious," she complained. "If
you _are_ serious,--well, _à quand le mariage_?"

"The marriage?" cried John. "How could I marry her? Such a thing's out
of all question.

"Why?" asked she.

"A miller's daughter!" said John. "Would you have me marry the daughter
of a miller?"

"You said yourself yesterday--" the lady reminded him.

"Ah, yes," said he. "But night brings counsel."

"If she's well educated," said Lady Blanchemain, "if she's well-bred,
what does it matter about her father? Though a nobody in Austria, where
nothing counts but quarterings, he's probably what we'd call a gentleman
in England. Suppose he's a barrister? Or the editor of a newspaper?
Or--"