"And the most unselfish," added the youthful Grand Turk on the arm of her chair.
"I'm not so sure of that," said Peggy.
"What you say about my making a career, and all that," continued the newly awakened Timothy—"well, there is something in it, you know! By Gad, there's something in it! I rather see myself in Parliament, letting some of those chaps have it in the neck! Wow-wow!" He bubbled enthusiastically: already, with the simple fervour of the hereditary ruling class, he felt himself at grips with the enemies of the State. "And I am sure you are right, too, about my not tying myself down to an early marriage. I consider it a jolly sporting and unselfish view for you to take. Still, I must not allow you to suffer." He laid his hand upon Peggy's arm. "Look here, Peggy, if I come to you in five years from now and ask you to marry me—will you?"
"Yes," said Peggy.
"Cheers!"
"On one condition."
"And that is—"
"That neither of us has married any one else in the meanwhile," concluded Peggy sedately.
Timothy laughed loudly at this flight of fancy.
"You can set your mind at rest on that point, Peggy," he said. "I will stick to you." He was a single-minded egoist, was young Timothy. "Then it's a deal?"