"Pray don't think of me," said Blount. "I shall give my whole attention to these."
But did he? Agatha had gone back to the drawing-room to find Elfrida rushing towards her.
"Isn't it beautiful?" cried that small person, precipitating herself upon Agatha's neck. "Isn't it all it ought to be?" She surrendered Agatha's neck here, and stood back from her, looking at her in, evidently, brilliant spirits, and the latest Parisian gown. "I'm going to be a bona-fide countess! A real live one, too. You may put anything you like on that. Lively shall be the word for me. If he thinks he's going to keep me down, and—Oh, Mr. Blount! You here!"
Blount did not answer her; words, indeed, were beyond him. So it was all over!
"I think I'll come and see your engravings some other day, Miss Nesbitt," said he, as calmly as possible, though it went to Agatha's heart to see the expression in his kind young eyes. "You and Miss Firs-Robinson must have a good deal to say to each other."
He turned to Elfrida. "You see I heard," said he gravely.
"Yes." Elfrida held out her hand to him in farewell. Agatha had not made even an attempt at detaining him, the situation seemed so full of briers. "And won't you—-"
"No, I do not congratulate you," said he steadily.
When he had gone, Agatha said quickly, "It is not true!"
"It is, indeed. He proposed to me yesterday just before he left, and I accepted him."