“That does not surprise me,” said Victoria.
“I shouldn't know where to run to,” he proclaimed.
“Perhaps the woman would, if you got a clever one. At any rate, it wouldn't matter. One place is as good as another. Some go to Niagara, and some to Coney Island, and others to Venice. Personally, I should have no particular preference.”
“No preference!” he exclaimed.
“I could be happy in Central Park,” she declared.
“Fortunately,” said Mr. Crewe, “you will never be called upon to make the trial.”
Victoria was silent. Her thoughts, for the moment, had flown elsewhere, but Mr. Crewe did not appear to notice this. He fell back into the rounded hollow of the bench, and it occurred to him that he had never quite realized that profile. And what an ornament she would be to his table.
“I think, Humphrey,” she said, “that we should be going back.”
“One moment, and I'll have finished,” he cried. “I've no doubt you are prepared for what I am going to say. I have purposely led up to it, in order that there might be no misunderstanding. In short, I have never seen another woman with personal characteristics so well suited for my life, and I want you to marry me, Victoria. I can offer you the position of the wife of a man with a public career—for which you are so well fitted.”
Victoria shook her head slowly, and smiled at him.