“You’re a dear, kind thing. And I’m sure I shall never be half so devoted to any other woman as I am to you.”
The emotion must have been catching, for Miss Ley’s tones had not their usual cold steadiness.
“Don’t be a drivelling idiot, my dear!” she answered, and when the door was closed behind him added to herself, half in irritation: “Bless the boy, I wish I were his mother.”
XIII
Two days later Miss Ley duly travelled down to Tercanbury, and was met at the station by Bella, who told her that, according to their arrangement, no mention had yet been made of the proposed marriage. She had announced merely that Herbert Field, whom she desired to make acquainted with her father, would come to tea that day. The Dean welcomed Miss Ley with joy.
“It’s very gracious and charming of you to shed your light on our provincial darkness, my dear,” he exclaimed, taking her hand.
“Don’t hold my hand, Algernon. I had a proposal of marriage on Saturday night, and I’m palpitating still.”
“Oh, Mary, do tell us all about it,” cried Miss Langton, with delight.
“I shan’t! I told Algernon simply because I notice the average man has no consideration at all for a single woman unless she’s marriageable.”
“But why didn’t you bring your friend, Dr. Hurrell?” asked the Dean. “Only to-day I bought a Latin herbary, written in the seventeenth century, which I’m sure would interest him.”