“Why should we? You know I’m not mercenary; let us pretend that no tiresome matters have to be discussed. We can leave it all to our solicitors.”
“But it’s very important.”
“Nonsense! Nothing’s important except that you’re the most charming woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m a lucky dog to have got hold of you. We’ll never grow any older than we are now; we’ll only grow younger year by year. When will you make me the happiest man in London?”
“You go so quickly,” she smiled.
He put his arm round her waist and seized her hand.
“Come, give me a kiss.” She positively blushed when he took it without more ado. “Upon my soul, you make me feel a perfect stripling. Shall we say in six weeks? That will bring us to the end of the season, and I can safely leave Lionel to preach to a regiment of empty pews.”
“For heaven’s sake sit down quietly, and let me get a word in.”
“Not till you’ve agreed. I won’t let you go till you’ve fixed the day.”
“You shall fix the day yourself,” she cried, extricating herself from his embrace.
Canon Spratte, with a laugh of triumph, threw himself into a comfortable chair. He was excited and restless. He knew he had never looked handsomer than at this moment, and he would not have changed places with a guardsman of twenty-five.