There was a momentary pause. The gentleman was still kneeling in front of the armchair, and the lady was still stroking his hair. There was a look on her face which was half comical and half something else as she changed the topic. "Rodney, who's Agnes Sybil Armstrong?" "I don't know, and don't you ask. Let her have her hundred a year, and go hang!" "Does every man have an Agnes Sybil Armstrong?" "Emphatically no; only--I was going to say only men like your father, but perhaps you wouldn't like it." "I wonder--will you ever have one?" "Gladys! Lady, if a man loves one woman, that's all the feminine kind he'll ever want, especially--if she's a woman like you. Doesn't your instinct tell you that when you're my wife, I'll--be satisfied, in every sense?" "I hope so. If you weren't, I--I shouldn't like it." "I should say not. May I hope that there is some possibility of your being my wife?" "I have some ideas in that direction now, though on Saturday I thought I never should. How prophetic you were? You almost foretold what has happened--almost as if you saw it coming. Did you know that he was ill?" "I had a shrewd suspicion; but you don't suppose I foresaw what actually did happen?" "I dare say that yours was not the prophetic vision quite to that extent. I wonder why he didn't like you?" "I'm nearly sure that with him it was a case of Dr. Fell--the reason why he couldn't tell. When you came on the scene he hated me because you didn't." "Didn't you do anything to ruffle him--to rub him the wrong way?" "Never--consciously. I've a notion--it's only a notion, but my notions are apt to be pretty near the mark--that he had some idea of marrying you to Mr. Stephen Wilkes." "Rodney! Good gracious! What a notion!" "As I remarked, it's only a notion; but I can put two and two together, and something in the gentleman's manner this morning put the crown on my suspicions." "I'd rather have died." "Or married me? Well--do! How soon could you make it convenient?" "How soon would you like it to be?" "This is Monday. Say Thursday--next?" "Rodney! How can you?" "Then make it Friday--if you've no prejudice against the day." "I'll never be married on a Friday." "Then postpone it to that far-off date, Saturday, or even Monday. I don't know if you want a smart wedding; if you do, what indefinite postponement may the conventions require?" "I don't want a smart wedding." "That sounds hopeful. You're all I want; I don't know if I'm all you want." "Well; you are one thing." "Am I? Thanks--you have a nice way. I tell you what, I'll get a special licence--hang the expense--and we'll be married on Monday." "I won't be married in black, and I will have one bridesmaid; I'll have Cissie Henderson. She's my particular friend; she likes you; she's been on our side all through; and she'll strain a point--when I've put it to her as I shall, she'll have to. As a matter of fact, I believe she'll love to."