"What is your reason?" he asked sharply. "Need you enquire? I will never be a party to what is called a 'mixed marriage.'" "As, for example?" "As, for example, my own father and mother." "Come, that is nonsense!" he protested impatiently. "You are no more like her--than I am like him." "Ah, but you cannot tell what we might become. I have no doubt we should both be miserable. My father----" Then he interrupted: "Your father came to grief, good, amiable gentleman, because he never could say the word 'no.' Now I can; in fact, strange as it may sound, such is my peculiar character, that my first impulse is to say 'no' sooner than 'yes.'" "Then I trust you will pardon me for saying 'no' to you." "It is not a case of pardon at all. For me, it is a profound disappointment. I scarcely ventured to hope you would accept me right off, but I thought you might give me a little encouragement--just a little bit of hope to go on with." "I had no idea you cared for me in this way, Mr. Salwey." "Well, I do. I have cared for you 'in this way' as you call it, ever since I first saw you in Aunt Liz's garden, sitting under the bamboo trees. You are the first woman I ever asked to marry me, and I think you will be the last. Of course, I am aware that from a worldly point of view, I am not much of a match for anyone--only a police wallah, a D. S. P. with five hundred rupees a month. I went to Harrow and was going into the Service, but I got a bad fall out hunting, and was laid on my back for a good while, and could not go up for Sandhurst. Meanwhile, my father married again--a woman none of us liked, but he was quite infatuated about her. She declared it was nonsense, my reading for the army; I should always be loafing about at home, for the chances were I would not pass. She thought me dull--and, I confess, I'm not particularly brilliant--so she got me a nomination in the police, and packed me off to India, and here I am. But I'm not bound to live here always. I believe I could get a billet in our own country. If"--he came to a full stop, and then went on. "And is it really, No?" he asked, looking at her steadily. She bowed her head, and then lifted her eyes slowly, and looked not into his, but over his shoulder at the river; Suddenly she gave a little shiver, and exclaimed: "Oh, what is it? I feel something so cold in the air. So--so--so strange!" and she shivered again. "I should like to go indoors, Mr. Salwey," standing up as she spoke. "Indeed I am most grateful to you now, and some day, you will be grateful to me. I hope we may be friends till then--and always. Now please take me back to your Aunt Lizzie."