"Yes," he said, as soon as he could. "I paid her a little call."
"Mr. Dryland, you can't deceive me. You've proposed to Mary Clibborn."
He swallowed his food with a gulp. "It's quite true."
"And she's refused you?"
"Yes!"
"Mr. Dryland, it was a noble thing to do. I must tell Archibald."
"Oh, please don't, Mrs. Jackson! I don't want it to get about."
"Oh, but I shall. We can't let you hide your light under a bushel. Fancy you proposing to that poor, dear girl! But it's just what I should have expected of you. That's what I always say. The clergy are constantly doing the most beautiful actions that no one hears anything about. You ought to receive a moral Victoria Cross. I'm sure you deserve it far more than that wicked and misguided young man."
"I don't think I ought to take any credit for what I've done," modestly remonstrated the curate.
"It was a beautiful action. You don't know how much it means to that poor, jilted girl."