A little travelling clock ticked purringly at her elbow,
and a log broke in two and sent up a shower of sparks.
The whole hushed and brooding room seemed to be
waiting silently with Archer.

"Yes," she murmured at length, "that's what my
family tell me."

He winced a little. "It's not unnatural--"

"OUR family," she corrected herself; and Archer
coloured. "For you'll be my cousin soon," she continued
gently.

"I hope so."

"And you take their view?"

He stood up at this, wandered across the room,
stared with void eyes at one of the pictures against the
old red damask, and came back irresolutely to her side.
How could he say: "Yes, if what your husband hints is
true, or if you've no way of disproving it?"

"Sincerely--" she interjected, as he was about to
speak.

He looked down into the fire. "Sincerely, then--what
should you gain that would compensate for the possibility--
the certainty--of a lot of beastly talk?"