"No, thank you. Well, I'll plunge into the pleasure right away, though there's some business in it, too. You know I'm not the man to beat about the bush, so I'll ask you straight out if you're still in the same mind as you were six months ago?"
Beatrice made an irritated movement of her shoulders.
"Oh, bother!" she answered. "Fancy calling at this hour to ask me that!"
"Sorry," said Ashford Billing. He did not appear at all excited, though his eyes gleamed. "My time's hardly my own just now—working day and night over the new production, provincial tours and syndicates. And you never seem to be at home at reasonable hours—I called twice last week, but Mizzi said you were out."
Beatrice blushed, and turned to the window to hide the blush. She remembered her instructions to Mizzi.
"So I thought I'd come now on the off chance," continued Billing. "Dear Miss Blair, I may not appear romantic or in earnest, but I am. I'm a plain man and want to marry you. You refused me once, but I don't like giving up altogether. Is it any good?"
"Not a bit," said Beatrice decisively. "Sorry, Ashford: I like you awfully, but not that way. So you must take that as final."
"I will for the present," he answered, looking gloomy for a moment. Then he brightened up. "But at the risk of offending I warn you that I mean to ask you again later on, in case you change your mind. In the American dictionary there's no such word as 'impossible.'"
Beatrice was roused at this.
"Look here, Ashford!" she said, biting her lip, "don't you talk to me like that! It's no good, and I won't have it! You'll make me lose my temper in a minute. I've never encouraged you, though I've always been fond of you in a friendly way."