"I suppose you are the best judge of your feelings towards me," he said coldly; "but you will allow me to answer for mine."
The Sahib was a good man, and a simple-hearted, but he knew his own value, and it would have been strange if Mona's reply had not surprised him. In fact he could only account for it on one supposition, and that supposition made him very angry and indignant. His next words were natural, if unpardonable. Perhaps Mona's frankness was spoiling him.
"Tell me," he said sharply, "in the old Norway days, when we saw so much of each other, was there some one else then?"
Mona drew herself up. "I do call that an insult," she said quietly. "Do you suppose that every unmarried woman is standing in the market-place waiting for a husband? Is it impossible that a woman may prefer to remain unmarried for the sake of all the work in the world that only an unmarried woman can do?"
The Sahib's face brightened visibly for a moment. Perhaps it was true, after all, that this clever woman was more of a child in some respects than half the flimsy damsels in the ball-room.
"Miss Maclean," he said, "bear with my dulness, and say to me these five words, 'There is no one else.'"
Mona lifted her honest eyes.
"There is no one else," she said simply.
"Thank you. Then if my sole rival is the work that only an unmarried woman can do, I decline to accept your answer."
"Don't be foolish, Mr Dickinson," said Mona gently. "You call me honest, and in this respect I am absolutely honest. If there were the faintest shadow of a doubt in my mind I would tell you. There are very few people in the world whom I like and trust as I do you, but I would as soon think of marrying Sir Douglas Munro. And you—you are sacrificing yourself to your own chivalry. You want to marry me because you are sorry for me, because I have muddled my own life."