She nodded and, getting a scarf, went out with him. Blue, brilliant moonlight flooded the country. From out of the trees came the eerie cry of owls, and crickets sang out of nowhere. A few bars of gold still lingered in the western sky, deepening as the world moved over. "I'm going back to-morrow," he said suddenly. "Ah----!" Was it a sigh, or merely an indifferent ejaculation? "This holiday has been right down beautiful." "I'm glad of that." A slight breeze blew the scarf from her neck. He took it and replaced it, and his hand touched the soft warm flesh. It stayed there. He had no power to remove it. This girl of unearthly beauty and fascination paralyzed him. To think that he should be sitting there with the perfectest woman God ever made----! The storm within him broke. His body quivered, and his great hand took the warm slim one and held it like a vice. "Angela--I've gotta tell you. I--love you. I've loved you since the first night I saw you. I've never wanted anything in my life like I want you." He stopped, realizing that he was gabbing at a terrific rate. "I'm rough--real rough, I know. But a man's a man for all that, I guess. And what can any man offer you better'n love--love that ... I'm no good at words--you'll understand that. Chin music ain't my line. But I'm sure crazy about you." The hand he held trembled a little, but it stayed there. "Angela--will you marry me?" Her head turned. He saw the moon reflected in two glorious eyes. "Yes," she said slowly. "You mean--you mean that?" he gasped, his voice almost choked with unutterable joy. "Yes--I mean that." In another second she was swept up in his arms. All the world went out in that passionate embrace. For the first time in his life his mouth touched a woman's lips. Featherstone paced up and down the library under the strain of considerable emotion, not to say excitement. Her Ladyship sat with an unread book on her knees gazing into nothingness. "They're a long time," said Featherstone. "Perhaps Angela----" "Angela was sure," he interrupted. "Dear, dear! I wish they'd come back." Lady Featherstone fidgeted. "Claude, I don't like this business at all. Oh heaven! to think of Angela married to a parvenu--a common _nouveau riche_!" "She might do far worse. Angela herself realizes that. Conlan undoubtedly loves her. It's for him to win her love. Once the marriage is celebrated, she need see him no more--er--that is to say, they can make arrangements whereby they do not become a nuisance to each other. He is apparently fond of this place, and Angela is not. What could be more natural than for Angela to take a flat in town and Conlan to live here?" Lady Featherstone shivered. "You think this man will reconcile the situation, once it becomes plain to him? Claude, he is a veritable giant. I--I don't like the look of him at all.... Oh, why couldn't we have waited and found a husband for Angela in her own set!" Featherstone shrugged his shoulders impatiently.