"Well, whatever jewel it was, may I hope?"
"I hadn't expected anything like this," said Mary, wondering whether it would create general consternation if she were to jump up from her seat and rush out of the conservatory.
"I know it seems sudden; but it's not really so sudden. All the time I've been in the south of France I've been thinking about you. I tried to drown my despair by playing roulette. In fact, I won quite a lot of money, because I played so recklessly."
Mary turned pale. Could her existence really affect a man of the world like Mr. Alison up to the point of reckless gambling?
"I felt in my inmost being that you could not love me. You're as much above me as a—as a—as an angel!" He tried not to look proud of the simile. "I know I am not worthy of you, Mary. I know that. But I have said enough. You look agitated. Please do not let my impetuosity distress you. Hark! Somebody else is going to sing."
The deep notes of a voluptuous contralto broke into the murmur of small talk like a dinner-gong.
"Don't forget, Mary," said Mr. Alison, when the sonorous abracadabra of an Italian song had died away in loud applause. "I have delivered my message, and I am content to wait. Shall I take you downstairs and get you an ice?"
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Alison."
"Mary, please!" he moaned reproachfully. "Jemmie. I thought you'd promised me that much."
It was lucky the ices were downstairs; for his tone would have melted the lot had they been in the conservatory.