A silvery ripple glided through the air behind him. 'I beg' pardon, Mr. Dempster. I was not aware you were so pious a man,' said Muriel.
A jack-in-the-box when the spring is touched shoots up not more suddenly than Dempster did. Abashed, he could only stammer, 'Eh—ah—I mean well.'
'I do indeed believe you,' said Muriel in a kindly tone. 'My aunt has told me that you were about to honour me with an offer of marriage. I thank you, sir; but I beg you not to put me to the necessity—the very disagreeable necessity—of refusing you.'
Half-an-hour before she could not have taken such a plain-spoken initiative; but the interview with Lee had roused her soul to arms.
Dempster, on the contrary, dimly conscious of his own absurdity and afraid to trust his nature, stood forth against her in his strait-waistcoat of formality. He could hardly believe his ears, accustomed to the lie that no girl could possibly refuse a millionaire, a false tenet which he had donned with his first pair of trousers.
'Why should you refuse me? I—I am very rich, and I love you.'
This was still pronounced in his best society tone.
'I am very sorry for you,' said Muriel frigidly. 'If you persist you will only annoy us both.'
His fear suddenly left him. He felt an underhand attack upon his wealth, which was him—his personality. He threw off the strait-waistcoat. He turned up the sleeves of his riches, and, in a raucous tone like that of an aggrieved school bully who wants an excuse to pommel a small boy, said 'Why do you refuse me? Give me a reason.'
'A reason!'
'Yes. Is there anything extraordinary in asking for a reason? I can't be put off in this way, you know. Do you love another?'