"I want to tell you"—Nora took a deep breath—"that I am engaged to be married." The Rev. John removed his spectacles. "To whom?" "To Captain von Arnim." For a full minute her father said nothing. Miles sat up as though a bomb had exploded in his close proximity. Only Mrs. Ingestre remained unmoved. She was watching her daughter with grave, thoughtful eyes, but there was an unmistakable, half-whimsical, half-pitying smile about her mouth. The Rev. John passed his hand over his head, thereby ruffling a thin wisp of hair, which, usually decorously smoothed over a wide surface, now stood on end in a fashion wholly inconsistent with the seriousness of the moment. But of this he was fortunately ignorant. To do him justice, his agitation was unfeigned. The blow had demoralised him, and to cover the momentary mental paralysis he took refuge in an obstinate refusal to understand what had been said to him. "My dear," he began amiably, "you mentioned that some one was going to be married—I did not catch the names. Would you mind repeating——? "I said that Captain von Arnim has asked me to be his wife," Nora answered steadily. "The impertinence of the fellow!" Miles had by this time recovered his self-possession sufficiently to speak. "I hope you sent him to the right-about?" "I kissed him," Nora explained, with a gleam of humour. "Nora!" "There was no reason why I shouldn’t. He is to be my husband." Miles swore under his breath. The Rev. John rose with what would have been dignity but for his ruffled hair-dress. "Nora—you—you—are talking nonsense," he jerked out. "I cannot believe that you know what you are saying. A—a—foreigner—a—a man of whom I know nothing!——" "You will get to know him in time," Nora put in hastily. "Do not interrupt me. I am grieved—shocked beyond words. I can only suppose that you have been led astray—eh—blinded by the glamour of a uniform. It is terrible. This is the reward of my weakness. Have I not always seen this coming?"—(here the reverend gentleman exaggerated, since the gift of prophecy had not been granted him)—"have I not always protested against your absence? But I at least supposed that—that Frau von Arnim was a woman who could be trusted—who would protect you from the—eh—attentions of a——" "Frau von Arnim is the best woman I have ever met, except mother," Nora broke in again. "As to Wolff——" "Wolff!" Miles laughed loudly. "Just think of it, people! ’Wolff’ for my brother-in-law! A German bounder in the family! Many thanks!" There was a moment’s electric silence. The Rev. John had by this time recovered his professional eloquence, and was preparing to settle down to the work of exhortation with a zest. It was perhaps fortunate that Nora’s face was turned away, otherwise he might have found less pleasure in listening to his own rounded periods.