She turned away her head and struggled with a smile, while he read the last verse defiantly and quickly, growing rather red:—
"I haven't got a stony heart
Or whatever it is, it belongs to you:
I vow myself thy slave,
And always I shall e'er be true!"
There was an embarrassed pause.
"Well, I really think that last line is rather pretty," said Aunt William, who had regained her self-control. "But do you think it is quite—"
"Is it all right to send to Her?" he said. "That's the point!"
"Well, I can hardly say. Would your father——"
"I say! You're not going to tell the Governor?"
"No, never, Savile dear. It shall be our secret," said Aunt William, reassuringly.
"Of course, I know this sort of thing is great rot," he said apologetically, "but women like it."
"Oh, do they really?" said Aunt William. "Well! what I always say is, if you're born with a gift, you should cultivate it!"