Austin Ambrose nodded and smiled as if he were rather pleased than otherwise.
"That is delightful!" he said, genially. "Lovers should always be imprudent. Yes, I like the idea very much."
Margaret glanced from the clear-cut, self-possessed face to Blair's handsome, careless one, and her eyes grew troubled.
"Is it so imprudent?" she said softly.
"Very, deliciously so!" said Austin, laughing. "And that is why I like it. Lovers should always be unwise and reckless. It is, as Doctor Watts observed, 'their nature to!' Miss Hale, I have one weak spot, amongst many, and you will discover it presently, I dare say. I am foolishly romantic. Anything in the shape of sentiment conquers me directly. I assure you that when Blair came and told me that he had met and lost his heart to the most beautiful young lady in the world, I felt as if I had lost mine, and I was as anxious—well, nearly as anxious, as he was to learn whether he was to be the happiest or the most miserable of men."
Blair laughed, Margaret smiled, but she was fighting against the strange repulsion which grew more distinct with every word the supple lips uttered.
"Yes," he went on. "And the idea of your going hand in hand to the earl and saying, 'My lord, we mean to be married. We don't care whether you like it or not, we defy you. You may leave us your immense wealth or you may bequeath it to the Home for Lost Dogs, we don't care. We love each other, and that is enough. My lord, good-morning!' Now, that is delightful! It is imprudent, it is reckless, and—and—well, yes—foolish; but it is so charming, so perfectly romantic, that I can't help admiring it."
Margaret's eyes grew more troubled. Blair smiled no longer.
"I say, Austin!" he expostulated.
Austin Ambrose held up his finger.