Though he had once or twice
almost fancied that he would like to proclaim aloud that the girl
was engaged to him, yet he did not like to have the fact pumped out
of him. And if she were such a girl as she now appeared to be,
might it not be better for him to let her go? Surely her conduct
here at Rufford Hall was opportunity enough. No doubt she was
handsome. No doubt he loved her,--after his fashion of loving. But
to lose her now would not break his heart, whereas to lose her
after he was married to her, would, he knew well, bring him to the
very ground. He would ask her a question or two this very night,
and then come to some resolution. With such thoughts as these
crossing his mind he certainly was not going to proclaim his
engagement to Lady Penwether. But Lady Penwether was a determined
woman. Her smile, when she condescended to smile, was very sweet,--
lighting up her whole face and flattering for the moment the person
on whom it shone. It was as though a rose in emitting its perfume
could confine itself to the nostrils of its one favoured friend.
And now she smiled on Morton as she asked another question. "I did
hear," she said, "from one of your Foreign Office young men that
you and Miss Trefoil were very intimate."
"Who was that, Lady Penwether?"
"Of course I shall mention no name.
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