Suddenly something took hold of him--a power greater than himself. For once the gift of tongues was vouchsafed him. "You are right, Peggy," he broke out. "I believe I am exactly the same as when I was a boy; in one thing anyhow; in my views on"--he boggled at the word "Love," and finally continued--"in my feelings about the biggest thing of all. Perhaps it is because I have always been shy and awkward, and have not sought out adventures that would correct my illusions. Anyhow, I am an idealist--a sentimentalist, if you like. I believe my father was, too, and even the knowledge that his ideals were shipwrecked does not discourage me. In my Utopia the men work and fight, and take all hard knocks and privations cheerfully, and run straight and live clean. They work because they like it, and not simply to make money. A man may work for fame, too, if he likes, but not the sort of thing we call fame nowadays--titles, and newspaper paragraphs, and stuff of that kind. If one of my knights achieves a big thing he is not excited about it: he just polishes up his armour and goes and does another big thing, without hanging about until a reporter turns up. I think the title of knight is the grandest honour a man can win; and it makes me mad to-day to see how that title has been stolen from its proper place and bestowed on men who have subscribed to party funds, or who happened to be Mayor when Royalty opened a new waterworks. My knight is a man who has _done_ things, and done them for just one reason--for the joy of doing them; and who dedicates the glory and the praise, however great or small, to"--Philip's voice dropped suddenly--"to the honour of his Lady." "And what is his Lady like?" asked Peggy softly. She knew she ought not to do so. If a maid permits herself to embark with a young man upon a romantic discussion, it is sometimes difficult to prevent the conversation from taking an uncomfortably personal turn. But for the moment Philip had carried her off her feet. "The Lady?" Philip descended from the clouds abruptly, and replied: "Well, I think you would make a very perfect Lady for a knight, Peggy." The Rubicon at last! One foot at least was over. Dumbly he waited for Peggy's next word. It came. "Unfortunately," said the girl lightly, "I am not eligible for such a post. Knights are not for me. You see, Philip," she continued hurriedly, avoiding his eyes, "times have changed. Knights are too scarce and Ladies are too numerous. There are about a million women in this country alone who will have to get along without a knight for the whole of their lives." "But not you," said Philip eagerly. "Any man would be proud--" "Thank you," said Peggy, "for the compliment. But perhaps I prefer to be one of that million. There are so many things that a woman can do now which were impossible in the days of chivalry, that she can live her own life quite happily and contentedly, knight or no."