The Countess rose obediently, and sent for her fur-lined cloak. It was just like a man to think that a bare neck and arms could be sufficiently protected by a flimsy “wrap.” The night was certainly calm, but as it was winter it could scarcely be otherwise than chilly. The terrace was deserted, save for a young man who was enjoying a smoke at the far end. Moore drew the young widow to a rustic seat at the most sheltered corner. There was no sound save the swish of the sea. Athelstan Moore was not the man to indulge in sentimentality. He paid no heed to the moon and the stars and the stillness, but came to the point at once. Lady Chesterwood had been given a month to consider his offer of marriage, and as the time had expired, he awaited her answer now. Lady Chesterwood was still undecided. “You say you wish to marry me because you are particularly drawn towards me,” she said evenly. “But in your position as head of the State, is it wise to saddle yourself with a wife?” “‘_Amare simul et sapere ipsi jovi non datur_,’” he quoted lightly. “Besides, I think it expedient for a Prime Minister to be married, since his wife can perform her duty to the State socially as hostess. Mrs. Moore, as you know, died a year after our marriage—when Phyllis was born. Don’t you think I owe a duty also to my motherless child?” If there was a tender spot in the Premier’s heart, it was for his little girl. Mamie knew it, and thought she recognised what had prompted the man’s desire. “You want a mother for Phyllis?” she asked softly. “Am I not right?” “Yes; but I also want you for myself. It is not good for man to be alone, especially a man so harassed and worried by the affairs of the nation as I am. When a fellow’s brain is so severely taxed that sometimes the whole universe seems out of joint, he longs for the sympathy of an intelligent woman to steady his nerves. I am not a young man, and I do not offer you the passionate devotion which a hotheaded youth lavishes on a young girl in her teens; but I will do my best to make you a good husband, Mamie; and as you are a sensible woman, I think you will understand.” Mamie did understand, and experienced a feeling of gratification. It seemed strange to hear Moore—the ostensibly stony-hearted, hard-headed Prime Minister—talk in this strain. It showed that, strong as he was, he was not too strong to be able to dispense with sympathy. It showed that, in spite of all the logic of dry-as-dust professors, there was a force to be reckoned with in love.