"The knowledge of duties well and conscientiously performed can scarcely be other than gratifying to anyone," remarked the Vicar with a touch of professional unction.
This being a remark which called for no reply, Phil remained judiciously silent. He was considering in what terms he could most diplomatically lead up to the subject which lay so close to his heart.
"When I tell you, sir," he resumed with a little touch of hesitation, "that I came back from New York to Liverpool by the Parthenia, you will guess at once whom I had the pleasure of having for a travelling companion."
The Vicar rubbed a thoughtful finger against his nose. "Really," he began dubiously. Then his face brightened. "Stay, though. The Parthenia did you say? Why, now I call it to mind, that is the boat Fanny and her aunt were to cross by. So you and she came over together, eh? It would beguile the tedium of the voyage for both of you."
Phil smiled inwardly. The meeting of the two young people had indeed served to beguile the tedium of the voyage, but in a way the Vicar as yet had no prevision of.
"If I recollect rightly," resumed the latter, "my sister was always a poor sailor, but I hope that in that respect at least Fan does not take after her aunt."
"Miss Sudlow proved herself a capital sailor, sir; but, as far as I am aware, Mrs. Empson was invisible from the time we passed Sandy Hook till we sighted the mouth of the Mersey."
"Fan dropped a line to her mother as soon as she landed, but we have not seen her yet. We hope to have that pleasure a week hence, when, doubtless, we shall be treated to quite a budget of traveller's tales."
So far the conversation had kept on the lines most desired by Winslade, but having reached this point, there seemed a danger of its being diverted by the Vicar to some less personal topic, in which case the coveted opportunity would be gone past recall. He pulled himself together. One breathless moment on the brink and then the plunge!
Philip Winslade, although in the ordinary affairs of life there were few men more self-possessed than he, could never afterwards call to mind the exact terms in which he contrived to blurt forth his confession. All he was conscious of was that he stammered and hesitated like a man afflicted with an impediment in his speech; that physically he turned first hot and then cold, and that by the time he had done he had worked himself back into a state of fever. The pith of the matter was that he sought the Vicar's permission to be received as Miss Sudlow's accepted suitor. When he had come to an end he gasped once or twice like a fish out of its proper element, and then sat staring helplessly at his vis-à-vis, who, on his part, returned the stare with interest through his gold-rimmed spectacles.