"Listen, Leslie," he said, getting her hand back again. "There are reasons why it is necessary—do you understand, my darling, necessary—that no one should know of our engagement. The other day, when—when I told you I loved you, and asked you to be my wife, I did not think of those reasons; I didn't think of anything but you. But they came home to me when I was in London. It sounds strange, almost incredible——."
"No, not incredible," she murmured.
"You would believe anything I told you, you mean?" he asked, with bated breath.
Her clear eyes met his with her assent in them as plainly as if she had spoken.
"My darling! And I cannot tell you——. But, Leslie, in a word, I am not free—I mean that I am not my own master——."
A faint smile chased the slightly troubled look from her face.
"It sounds so strangely," she said. "A duke and not your own master——."
He reddened, and his eyes dropped before hers.
"Heaven and earth!" broke from him almost passionately. "Leslie—I beg of you not to—to call me that again——."
"Not——." She looked at him questioningly.