“You conceal your meaning as skilfully as—according to you—I have concealed mine. Good-morning.”

“Are you going already?”

“Do you care one bit for me, Marian?”

“I do indeed. Believe me, you are one of my special friends.”

“I do not want to be one of your friends. Will you be my wife?”

“Sholto!”

“Will you be my wife?”

“No. I——”

“Pardon me. That is quite sufficient. Good-morning.”

The moment he interrupted her, a change in her face shewed she had a temper. She did not move a muscle until she heard the house door close behind him. Then she ran upstairs to the drawing-room, where Miss McQuinch was still practising.