I sat down on the chair she indicated, and she placed herself on the opposite sofa which stretched diagonally before the fire. There were three lamps with rosy shades in the large low-ceilinged room, and we sat in a kind of Paphian twilight, eminently suited to a proposal. What with the subdued light amidst which she glimmered like an exquisite star, and my own tumultuous feelings, I wonder that I did not take her in my arms, then and there to kiss her into consenting to be my dear wife. But prudence came to my aid and I was spared the necessity of a refusal, which certainly would have been forthcoming had I acted as I felt inclined to do.
She was silent, and I was silent, and the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the French clock on the mantelpiece. Then, as Gertrude did not speak, I was forced to begin the conversation, else my half-hour would be wasted.
"You puzzle me, Miss Monk," I said bluntly, and purposely said it, so as to enchain her attention.
"Do I? Why?"
"Your aunt also puzzles me," I went on, ignoring her question.
"Why?" she asked again, and the uneasy troubled look came into her eyes.
"She declares that you will become Mrs. Striver within six months----"
"Mr. Vance!" She rose impulsively, and looked highly indignant.
"Because," I continued remorselessly, and repeating Miss Destiny's exact words, "Joseph has Anne Caldershaw's private papers."
Miss Monk turned white, gasped, and sank back nervously into her seat. "My aunt is mad to say such a thing," she stammered.