sell your soul and your body to be Marquise de La Tour d'Azyr."

"You are indelicate," said she, and though she frowned her eyes
laughed. "And you go headlong to conclusions. My uncle will not
consent to more than to allow my consent to be sought. We understand
each other, my uncle and I. I am not to be bartered like a turnip."

He stood still to face her, his eyes glowing, a flush creeping into
his pale cheeks.

"You have been torturing me to amuse yourself!" he cried. "Ah,
well, I forgive you out of my relief."

"Again you go too fast, Cousin Andre I have permitted my uncle to
consent that M. le Marquis shall make his court to me. I like the
look of the gentleman. I am flattered by his preference when I
consider his eminence. It is an eminence that I may find it
desirable to share. M. le Marquis does not look as if he were a
dullard. It should be interesting to be wooed by him. It may be
more interesting still to marry him, and I think, when all is
considered, that I shall probably - very probably - decide to do so."

He looked at her, looked at the sweet, challenging loveliness of that
childlike face so tightly framed in the oval of white fur, and all
the life seemed to go out of his own countenance.

"God help you, Aline!" he groaned.

She stamped her foot. He was really very exasperating, and
something presumptuous too, she thought.