“Perhaps I had better mend my ways,” said Pen, with a swift unhappy smile.
“That would be a pity, for your ways are delightful. I have a better plan than yours, Pen.”
She got up quickly from the table. “No, no! Please no, sir!” she said in a choking voice.
He too rose, and held out his hand. “Why do you say that? I want you to marry me, Pen.”
“Oh Richard, I wish you would not!” she begged, retreating to the window. “Indeed, I don’t want you to offer for me. It is extremely obliging of you, but I could not!”
“Obliging of me! What nonsense is this?”
“Yes, yes, I know why you have said it!” she said distressfully. “You feel that you have compromised me, but indeed you haven’t, for no one will ever know the truth!”
“I detect the fell hand of Mr Luttrell,” said Sir Richard rather grimly. “What pernicious rubbish has he been putting into your head, my little one?”
This term of endearment made Pen wink away a sudden tear. “Oh no! Only I was stupid not to think of it before. Really, I have no more sense than Lydia! But you are so much older than I am that it truly did not occur to me—until Piers came, and that you told him, to save my face, that we were betrothed! Then I saw what a little fool I had been! But it does not signify, sir, for Piers will never breathe a word, even to Lydia, and Aunt Almeria need not know that I have been with you all the time.”
“Pen, will you stop talking nonsense? I am not in the least chivalrous, my dear: you may ask my sister, and she will tell you that I am the most selfish creature alive. I never do anything to please anyone but myself.”