"In some such position as confidential secretary--at a decent
salary, of course. We've not been able to find a suitable man since
Mr. Kinghorne left us in the spring. He got into Parliament, you
know, for Reddington at the by-election--and we've been muddling
along with honorary secretaries and typists. I shouldn't suggest it
to you," she went on, so as to give him time to think, for he sat
staring at her, openmouthed, bewildered, his breath coming quickly--"I
shouldn't suggest it to you if there were no chances for you
in it. You would be in the thick of public affairs, and an ambitious
man might find a path in them that would lead him anywhere. I've had
the idea in my head," she smiled, "for-some time. But I've only
spoken to my brother about it this afternoon--he has been so busy,
you see--and I intended to have another talk with him, so as to
crystallize things--duties, money, and so forth--before making
you any proposal. I was going to write to you with everything cut
and dried. But"--she hesitated delicately--"I'm glad I didn't.
It's so much more simple and friendly to talk. Now, what do you
say?"

Paul rose and gripped his hands together and looked again into the
fire. "What can I say? I could only go on my knees to you--and
that--"

"That would be beautifully romantic and entirely absurd," she
laughed. "Anyhow, it's settled. Tomorrow we can discuss details."
She rose and put out her hand. "Good night, Paul."

He bowed low. "My dearest lady," said he in a low voice, and went
and held the door open for her to pass out.