"That is my limit," he said.
Meanwhile Lady Adela had come to the conclusion that all this was very emotional and undignified.
"Miss Welwyn," she enquired, "what does this mean?"
"I will tell you," said Tilly. "But first of all I must say one thing. I did not try to trap your son, as you seem to think. We fell--we came to care for one another quite naturally. I made no attempt to catch him. I knew nothing whatever about him. It--it just happened." She turned wistfully to Dicky. "Did n't it?" she asked.
Dicky nodded his head gravely.
"It just happened," he said.
"And since we cared for one another--or thought we did"--continued Tilly with a little choke, "it never came into my head that anything else could matter. But last Saturday, when I went to stay at your house, and saw your grand ways and your grand servants, and all the commotion you made about Members of Parliament, and county families, and all that--well, I began to see rocks ahead. I felt common. My courage began to fail. I began to be afraid that you would not take kindly to the Family--"
"It was n't you that was afraid, dearie," said a respectful voice behind her. "It was the Family."
"I saw, too, Lady Adela," continued Tilly, "that you were against me--dead against me--and that as soon as you got hold of a decent-excuse I should be bundled out of your son's life, like--like an entanglement. That put my back up. I had meant to be perfectly straight and unpretentious with you, but when I saw what you were after, I determined to fight. So I have deceived you."
"We all have," murmured a loyal chorus.