‘Let me be your husband; we can settle afterwards who shall obey,’ pleaded Edgar, leaning with folded arms upon the broad elbow of her chair, trying to get as near her as her entrenched position would allow. ‘I like you very much. After Madoline there is no one I like better,’ faltered Daphne; ‘but I am not the least little bit in love with you. I suppose it is wrong to be so candid; but I want you to know the truth.’ ‘If you like me well enough to marry me, I am content.’ ‘Really and truly? Content to accept liking instead of love; confidence and frank straightforward friendship instead of sentiment or romance?’ ‘I do not care a straw for romance. And to be liked and trusted——well, that is something. So long as there is no one else you have ever liked better——’ The face turned towards the fire quivered with the passing of a strong emotion, but Edgar could only see the thick ripple a of golden hair making a wavy line above the delicate ear, and the perfect outline of the throat, rising out of its soft lace ruffle like the stem of a lily from among its leaves. ‘Who else is there for me to like?’ she asked with a faint laugh. ‘Then, dearest, I would rather have your liking than any other woman’s love: and it shall go hard with me if liking do not grow to love before our lives are ended,’ said Edgar, clasping the hand that lay inert upon Fluff’s silky back. The Maltese resented the liberty by an ineffectual snap. ‘Please, don’t—don’t think it quite settled yet,’ cried Daphne, scared by this hand-clasp, which seemed like taking possession of her. ‘You must give me time to breathe—time to think. I want to be worthy of you, if I can—if—if—I am ever to be your wife. I want to be loyal—and honest—as you are.’ ‘Only say that you will be my wife. I can trust you with the rest of my fate.’ ‘Give me a few days—a few hours, at least—to consider.’ ‘But why not to-day? Let it be to-day,’ he pleaded passionately. ‘You must give me a little while,’ answered Daphne, smiling faintly at his impatience, which seemed to her something childish, she not being touched by the same passion, or inspired by the same hope, being, as it were, outside the circle of his thoughts. ‘If—if—you are very anxious to be answered—let it be to-day.’ ‘Bless you, darling!’ ‘But don’t be grateful in advance. The answer may be No.’ ‘It must not. You would not break my heart a second time.’ ‘Ah, then you contrived to mend it after the first breakage,’ retorted Daphne, laughing with something of her old mirth. ‘Madoline broke it first, and you patched it together and made quite a good job of it, and then offered it to me. Well, if you really wish it, you shall have your answer to-night. I must speak to Lina first.’ ‘I know she will be on my side.’ ‘Tremendously. You will dine here, of course. And I suppose you will go away at about eleven o’clock. You know the window of my room?’