"Oh, you poor thing!" she murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Say you will be my wife and have done with it," he urged.
"Now, supposing—only supposing that I were foolish enough——"
"You will," he cried, and doubtless he looked a little ridiculous as he went down on one knee. The joint, too, was stiffer than usual this morning.
"What do you imagine," she suggested, "that Carrissima would say—and your son!"
At this alarming reminder Colonel Faversham made an attempt to rise, but to his annoyance a cry of pain escaped. Unable for the moment to straighten his knee, he remained at Bridget's feet, conscious of the anti-climax.
"Let me help you," she said, sympathetically offering her hand.
"Good heavens!" he cried; "why do you imagine I require help! I am quite able to help myself. I never depend on other people. Give me independence," he added, standing upright though the effort made him wince.
"Yet you ask me to sacrifice mine!" said Bridget. "But what would Mr.
Lawrence Faversham have to say?"
"Upon my soul I can't imagine," was the answer.