“My dear man, have you taken leave of your senses?”
“My children are making their own homes, and I shall be left alone. Whatever you say, we’re neither of us old yet. Why shouldn’t we join forces?”
“It’s too absurd,” she said.
“That I should want to marry you? Look in your glass, dear friend, and it will tell you there are a hundred good reasons.”
He put his arm round her, and before she realized what he was about, kissed her lips.
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“But I haven’t accepted,” she cried.
“I told you I never took a refusal; I shall inform Sophia that you’ve promised to marry me.”
Giving her no time to reply, he jumped up, pressed her hand lightly, and disappeared. Mrs. Fitzherbert did not know whether to be amused or angry. The affair seemed like a joke that had been carried too far, and she really could not believe that the Canon meant what he said. Suddenly an idea struck her. A smile came to her lips and she began to laugh. The idea gained shape. She threw back her head and laughed till the tears positively ran down her cheeks.
But the Canon returned to the ball-room feeling not a day more than twenty-five. Winnie came up to him.