"Oh, Mr. Armstrong!" gasped Claire, not knowing what in the world to say to this ardent lover, who was so impetuous in his wooing.
Before he could add a word Mrs. Fairfax came down the grand stairway, her silken gown making a rustling frou-frou upon the velvet carpet.
She looked much surprised at finding him there, as she had not been apprised of his coming.
Kendale arose to greet her in his usual impressive, languid, courteous fashion, managing to whisper in Claire's ear hastily:
"Make some excuse to leave the drawing-room for a few minutes, dear, and while you are gone I will broach the all-important subject to your mother."
Mrs. Fairfax greeted the handsome young man cordially, pretending not to have noticed how near to each other they had been sitting upon her entrance to the drawing-room, and how suddenly they had sprung apart.
Her daughter's blushing face and confused manner told her that the propitious moment had arrived—the handsome heir to the Marsh millions had proposed.
And underneath her calm exterior Mrs. Fairfax's heart beat high with exultation. Her quick ear had also caught that rapidly whispered last remark to Claire, and, realizing that her daughter was too much flustered to act upon it, gave the young man the opportunity to be alone with her which he seemed to desire by remarking:
"Dear me, I have left my fan in my boudoir, Claire, dear, would you mind ringing for my maid to fetch it to me?"
"I will go for it, mamma," returned Claire, shyly, without daring to look at her lover.