"Yes, I suppose it's for the best, but you know I hate to do it. Somehow I can't think all you imply of her."
"My dear boy," said Kent-Lauriston, "I may be doing the lady gross injustice and keeping you out of a very good thing, but even in that case you must not go to Sussex. For heaven's sake, man, take time to consider! It's too important a matter to be decided in a hurry. If she cares for you and is worthy of you, she'll give you every fair opportunity of asking her the fateful question and a reasonable amount of time to think it over. Take a fortnight for calm reflection; it's very little to allow for what may be a life's happiness or misery. Meanwhile try and keep your mind off it. Run over to Paris with me. If at the end of our trip you still feel the same towards her, I won't stand in your way, I promise you. Come, is that a fair offer?"
"Most kind," said Stanley, "and to show you my appreciation of all the trouble you've taken, I'll send my regrets to Mrs. Roberts by the first post."
"Good boy!" said his mentor, sententiously.
"I don't know about Paris, as to whether I can get leave, I mean."
"Nonsense, you have already arranged your leave for the house-party, I'll be bound. Dine with me here to-morrow night at eight, and we'll talk it over."
"Thanks, I will. I must be going now, I have to look in at a tea or two."
"Not to meet our charming enchantress?"
"No, no, trust me, I'll play fair," and he was gone.
Kent-Lauriston puffed meditatively at his cigarette, now that he was alone, and tugged hard at his moustache.