“Lady Malingcourt,” he said, “there is one thing in the world—perhaps I am mad to dream of it—I know I am, but if ever I had the smallest chance of gaining it, there is nothing I would not attempt, nothing I would not do.”
There was a sharp break in his voice, a mist before his eyes. Lady Malingcourt was studying the pattern of her lace parasol. Suddenly she closed it and looked up at him.
“Don’t you think you had better postpone the rest—until after dinner?” she said quietly.
“No,” he answered. “You and your brother, Lady Malingcourt, have been very kind to me. You have made me sometimes almost forget the difference between a mechanic such as I am and gentle people such as you. So I have dared to wonder whether that difference must be forever.”
“You are really rather foolish to talk like this,” she remarked, smiling placidly at him. “I do not know quite what difference you mean. There is no difference between your world and mine whatever, except that a mechanic is often a gentleman, and gentle people are often snobs. You are wonderfully modest to-day, Mr. Strone. I had an idea that people with brains like yours considered themselves very superior to the mere butterflies of life.”
“I am speaking as I feel,” he answered. “I have tried to make myself think differently, but it is impossible. One can’t ignore facts, Lady Malingcourt, and when I am with you I feel rough, and coarse, and ignorant; I feel that even to think of what I want to say to you is gross presumption.”
She rose slowly to her feet.
“Then do not say it, Mr. Strone,” she said quietly, “and leave off thinking about it.”
His eyes sought hers eagerly, passionately. There was no sign in her face of the woman from whose hands had fluttered those white roses through the darkness into his keeping. Her head was uplifted, her eyes cold—even it seemed to him that her delicate lips were slightly curled. His heart sank like lead.
“You see, after all, I am right,” he cried bitterly. “You are angry with me, you will not let me speak. You think I am mad because I have dared to dream of you as the one hope of my life.”