"To do about it! Oh, my dear Mr. Fenton, what do you mean?"
They were both blushing very much by this time, and it was quite a charity to ask them to sit down. Lily herself took a seat upon the sofa, and, enjoying the situation immensely, encouraged them to go on.
"So I must congratulate you both; how good of you to take me into your confidence so soon. Why, it was only this morning, was it not?"
"In the woods below the Zaat," interposed Bob quickly; "I could show you the place."
"And I was just a quarter of a mile away. Was it not a coincidence, Mrs. Kennaird? We were both done for when we met."
She looked from one to the other, asking herself whether this was said in jest, or was indeed the very far from sentimental confession of a not unsentimental youth. And that was a riddle she could not read. It seemed to her that she was listening to boys from a public school, who had all the fine airs and the sporadic idiom of the city, but were at heart as simple as any Corydon from remote pastures.
"Really," she said, with just a suspicion of reproach in her tone. "Really, you must be serious, Mr. Fenton."
"I was never more serious in my life. We're both engaged, and we've got three hundred and ninety pounds a year between us; that's why we've come to you. You can tell us what we ought to do about it."
She laughed—it was so droll.
"Then you regard it altogether as a matter of money?"