“My opinion in the matter carries no weight?” he suggested.
She knitted her brows a little. “I would certainly rather you believed in me,” she said. “But—I cannot give you any convincing reason for so doing.”
“You can if you wish,” said the Bishop.
She shook her head. “I am afraid not.”
He rose. “By answering two questions which concern yourself alone. First, why are you not willing to marry my nephew?”
She looked at him, slightly startled. “Because I don’t love him,” she said.
“Thank you,” said the Bishop. “And is there any other man whom you would be willing to marry?”
His eyes held her. She felt the blood surge over her face, but she could not turn away. He waited inexorably for her reply.
For a space she did battle with him, then very suddenly, almost whimsically, she yielded.
“Yes, my lord,” she said, and she spoke with a certain pride.