"Whom I am going to marry."
She looked at him as if she were dimly trying to realise what, by any possibility, could be his meaning. She seemed almost to think that great joy had caused him to lose his mental equilibrium, as it most certainly had caused her to lose hers. She put out her hands, as if he were a child, and advanced them towards his face.
"Ronald--kiss me,--after all these years."
Then the man blazed up. He seized her wrists just as her fingers touched his cheeks. He broke into a fury. "Don't."
She looked at him askance.
"Ronald--won't you kiss me?"
Still he could not tell it to her, not face to face. He roughly dropped her hands. He turned away. She looked at him in wondering amazement.
"Ronald, what do you mean?"
Then he turned to her. On his face there was that expression of resolution with which, in certain of his moods, the House of Commons was beginning to be very well acquainted.
"Lady Griswold, the purpose of my visit was to inform you that, with your permission, I propose to do myself the honour of marrying your daughter Inez."