When the maid had departed, Miss Leslie rose and walked to the window, through which the afternoon sun was shining. Peggy's tastes rather leaned to rose-coloured curtains and silk blinds. Jean Leslie arranged these to her liking. Then, having adjusted her hat to the proper angle, she sat down with her back to the light, and waited. Presently Montagu entered. "Well, Jean," he said affably,--he was flattered by his new rule of consultant,--"you are looking very smart to-day." "This testimonial is most gratifying," said Miss Leslie. "Do you like my furs?" Montagu surveyed her critically. He had a real eye for form and tone; and he nodded approval. "Yes," he said; "they suit you perfectly. And that bunch of violets adds just the right touch of subdued colour." "Thank you," said Miss Leslie meekly. Montagu sat down on the other side of the hearth. "However," he said importantly, "I believe I am correct in supposing that you did not come here to show me your clothes." (In this he was not so correct as he thought.) "I understand you wish to have my opinion on some matter." "Yes," said Miss Leslie. "It is a matter which I could confide to no one but a very old and very trustworthy friend." "Quite so, quite so," said Montagu, much gratified, but a little staggered. For the last twenty years he had rarely encountered the lady before him for more than five minutes without becoming embroiled with her in a skirmish of some description; and pitched battles had been not infrequent. "I want to ask what you _think_, Montagu," continued Miss Leslie. "You are one of the few people I know whom I would describe as a true man of the world." Montagu Falconer began to purr gently. "Possibly," he said--"possibly! Well?" "The fact is," confessed Miss Leslie, after a momentary hesitation, "I have received an offer of marriage." "Good God!" exclaimed Montagu. "Who is the"--he was about to say "idiot," but corrected himself--"gentleman?" "His name," said Miss Leslie, casting down her eyes, "is Adolphus Prince. I have known him for many years." "Extraordinary name! Is he old or young?" Miss Leslie considered. "He is about fifty," she said. "Rather elderly," commented Montagu Falconer, who was only forty-eight. "How old are you, by the way?" "Forty-two," said Miss Leslie coyly. "I am bound to say, Jean," remarked Montagu handsomely, "that you don't look it. Now, what of this fellow? Is he a gentleman?" "I hope so," said Miss Leslie humbly. "But are you _sure_? You dear women, Jean, if I may say so, are too apt to be carried away by your feelings. What is his station--his position?" "He is a retired colonel of militia," replied Miss Leslie. (This statement would have surprised Timothy, who would have it that his rival was a superannuated tea-taster.) "He has lived a great deal in India, and is now quite alone in the world." "I see. One leg and no liver, I presume!" said Montagu facetiously. Miss Leslie laughed appreciatively.