[Illustration: "That depends upon whether you are going to marry me.">[
For a second or two Mélanie's eyes refused to lift; but Aleck's firm-planted figure, his steady gaze, above all, his dominating will, forced her to look up. There he was, smiling, strong, big, kindly. Mélanie started to smile, but for the second time that morning her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears.
"I can't talk to you towering over me like that," she said at last softly, her smile winning against the tears.
Aleck did not move. "I don't want you to 'talk to' me about it; all I want is for you to say 'yes.'"
"But I'm not going to say 'yes;' at least, I don't think I am. Do sit down."
Aleck started straight for the gilt chair.
"Oh, no; not that! You are four times too big for that chair. Besides, it's quite valuable; it's a Louis Quinze."
Aleck indulged in a vicious kick at the ridiculous thing, picked up an enormous leather-bottomed chair made apparently of lead, and placed it jauntily almost beside Miss Reynier's chair, but facing the other way.