"Well, I've been thinking," he said, "and, among other things, thinking that perhaps you ought to meet Sir Ross half way."
"What do you mean?"
"Half way about me," Melville answered, avoiding her direct look. "If he objects so violently to my coming to your house I can be less constant in my attendance, and you won't be any worse off than you were before you wrote to me. I shall be, of course," he added politely, "but that is my misfortune. You needn't tell Sir Ross in so many words that you have ordered me off your premises, but he will think you have done so, and everything will be—as you were, don't you know."
He rolled a cigarette delicately between his long fingers, focussing all his attention upon the operation.
"That is impossible," she said coldly. "Sir Ross only presumed to dictate because he understood that I was engaged to him."
"Quite so," said Melville.
"Of course it's impossible that I should marry him now."
"Why?" Melville enquired calmly.
"Why?" she echoed in astonishment. "You told me yourself that my marriage with Mr. Sinclair was invalid because Sir Geoffrey was alive, and yet you ask me why I can't marry Sir Ross! I wronged one man—in ignorance—but I have no intention of wronging another deliberately. I may as well say, once and for all, that if Sir Ross applies to me again I shall tell him that our engagement is finally broken off."
"Why be so heroic?" Melville said. "Millionaire baronets don't grow on blackberry bushes."