"It is usual——" he began, but she cut him short, exclaiming:
"Oh, bother! Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude, but really, you know, any girl who was old enough to marry would be quite capable of giving you your—answer." The last word, after a pause for consideration, was accompanied by a bewitching, if ambiguous, smile.
"I—I hope you are not offended," he floundered on, in desperate straits by this time.
"Oh dear, no," she returned serenely, "I'm only grieved for Aunt Eliza. You shouldn't have done it, really; it must have upset her dreadfully; she's too old for that sort of thing. Do tell me what she said to you."
"She said I must propose on my own account," he blurted out, "and that she could not pretend to advise me."
"Clever Aunt Eliza!" murmured Miss Vernon.
"So you see," continued her lover, determined to have it over and know the worst, "I came to you."
"For more advice?" she queried, and, receiving no answer, continued demurely: "Of course I haven't the remotest idea whom you mean to honour, but it does seem to me that the wives of Englishmen allow themselves to be treated shamefully, and I once made out a list of objections which I always said I would present to any Englishman who proposed to me. Of course," she hastened to add, "you will probably marry an English girl, who won't mind."
"I haven't said so!" he interjected.
"No," she said meditatively, "you haven't. I'll tell you what they are if you wish."