"But you—I do not know how to say it—In justice to yourself, no less than to him, you should make sure."
"I have never been more sure," she replied. "You have been most generous and patient. It is not right or considerate for me to longer delay my decision."
"Er—very good of you, very!" he murmured, gazing down at his interlocked fingers. "Yet—if you would care to wait—to make sure, y' know."
"But why should I wait? No, James, I am clear in what I am doing. I know that I can trust you absolutely."
Lord James slowly raised his head and met her gaze, too intent upon repressing the stress of his emotions to perceive the big fur-clad form that stood rigid in the doorway beyond Genevieve.
"Miss Leslie," he said, speaking in the same formal and serious tone that she had used in giving her decision, "I am then to understand that you accept my proposal—you will marry me?"
"Within the year, if you desire," she responded, without any sign of hesitancy.
"It's very good of you!" he replied. "I shall devote myself to your happiness."
If his voice lacked the joyful ring and his look the ardent delight of a successful lover, she failed to heed it. He rose and bent over the table with grave gallantry to kiss the hand that she held out to him.
"'Gratulations!" said a harsh voice, seemingly almost in their ears.