"What a charming old room!" she said delightedly; "it must have been built by William the Conqueror: all except the horrid windows."
"They are rather out of place," I admitted; "some Vandal of a Monk, put them there during the Albert period, when everything was ugly."
"I shall get Dicky to give me a room like this--without the French windows, of course," chatted Mabel.
"Oh! then you intend to marry him."
"Certainly not. I intend to box his ears if he has the cheek to speak to me again. The idea!"
"What shall I give you for a wedding present, Mabel?" I asked, laughing.
"Dicky's head on a charger," she replied promptly.
"In that case there would be no wedding. Come, Mabel, you know you love Weston and intend to marry him."
"Well, I do, on one condition."
"What is that?"