"Oh, but, Dicky, you weren't married to her."
"True," said Dicky thoughtfully. "That's a point. There are things one should be thankful for, after all." He sighed. "And was it to-night that he laid his charms at your feet?"
"No—the day before yesterday. At least, I think it was the day before yesterday, but"—dejectedly—"it seems like a century ago. I've gone through so much since."
"And in the meantime?"
"Jack has asked me to marry him." She glanced up at Dicky and smiled. He thought he had never seen her look so pretty. Love had gilded her beauty. There was quite an air of triumph about her.
"If you expect me to be surprised," said he, "you're out of it. To ask you to marry him is the sort of thing that any fellow would want to do in a second. I may as well tell you, now that hope is at an end for ever, that I myself often had a desire to ask you that great question myself."
"I wish, Dicky, you would try to be sensible for even a little while," said she impatiently. "I'm so unhappy. I've told you that Aunt Hilda has set her heart on my accepting Dr. Darkham."
"I shouldn't do that if I were you," said Mr. Browne.
"No, no, of course not! Nothing would induce me. Not now, when Jack has told me that he—he—-"
"I know," said Mr. Browne confidentially. "You needn't go into it. I've done it myself. Usual taradiddle. Told you you were the 'only woman in the world.' It's extraordinary how a lie like that takes, when one has only to look round and see a lot more women than one wants. But it never fails."