A signal at the entrance to the dining-room was exciting but obscure, and there was no opportunity for inquiries before the ladies took their seats. He anathematised an epergne which to-night seemed more than usually obstructive. Cynthia was in white. He did not remember having seen her in the gown before, and the glimpse of her queenliness shook him. No mother would accord to him so peerless a treasure—he had been mad!
It was interminable, this procession of courses, relieved by glances at a profile down the table. His mouth was dry, and he ordered champagne to raise his pluck. It heated him, without steadying his nerves. The room was like a Turkish bath; yet the curve of cheek that he descried was as pale as the corsage. How could she manage it? He himself was bedewed with perspiration.
He could wait no longer. He went on to the veranda and lit a cigar. He saw Mrs. Walford come out, and, throwing the cigar away, rose to meet her. She was alone. Where was Cynthia? Seeking him? or was her absence designed?
"I hope our excursion hasn't tired you, Mrs. Walford?"
"Oh dear no!" she assured him. She hesitated, but her manner was blithesome. His courage mounted. "Shall we take a turn?" she suggested.
"Mrs. Walford, your daughter has told you what I ... of our conversation this afternoon, perhaps? I haven't many pretensions, but I'm devoted to her, and she is good enough to care a little for me. Will you give her to me and let me spend my life in making her happy?"
She made a gesture of sudden artlessness.
"I was perfectly astonished!" she exclaimed. "To tell you the truth, Mr. Kent, I was perfectly astonished when Cynthia spoke to me. I hadn't an idea of it. I—er—I don't know whether I'm particularly obtuse in these affairs—hee, hee, hee!—but I hadn't a suspicion!"
"But you don't refuse?" he begged. "You don't disapprove?"
She waved her hands afresh, and went on jerkily, with a wide, fixed smile: