Constance, whose faculties were not so concentrated as his, heard a rustle on the stairs and glancing out through the portieres into the hall, saw Polly, without her hat, hurrying to the front door. The bell had not rung, and she divined that Polly, out of the boudoir window, had seen some particular company approaching.
"It seems impossible," she returned, and waited.
"Not quite," Gresham assured her with a smile. "There is one way we could carry out the provisions of your aunt's will and still force no repugnant companionship upon you."
"I think I see," replied Constance—"you mean that we part at the altar," and in spite of all her efforts to keep her face straight she finally laughed.
"Well, I didn't intend to put it quite in that melodramatic way," resented Gresham.
"Polly wins," declared Constance. "She bet me a five-pound box of chocolates that you would make that proposal, but I didn't really think you would do it."
"This is too serious a matter for flippancy," and Gresham bit his lip. "The plan I suggest is thoroughly sensible."
"That's why I reject it," stated Constance.
Gresham bent his frowning brows on the floor. Constance, through the portieres, saw Polly and Johnny Gamble.
"I think we shall consider the incident as closed," she added hastily, with a wicked desire to have him go out and meet Johnny in the hall.