“Upon my word,” said Percy, “if she gets much more scared I verily believe she will.” His friend watched him on this, and he went on. “She’ll go to the girl herself.” “How do you mean ‘go’ to her?” “She’ll try to get ‘at’ her—to square her. She won’t care what she does.” Lord Lambeth turned away in silence; he took twenty steps and slowly returned. “She had better take care what she does. I’ve invited Mrs. Westgate and Miss Alden to Branches, and this evening I shall name a day.” “And shall you invite your mother and your sisters to meet them?” Lord Lambeth indulged in one of his rare discriminations. “I shall give them the opportunity.” “That will touch the Duchess up,” said Percy Beaumont. “I ‘guess’ she’ll come.” “She may do as she pleases.” “Then do you really propose to marry the little sister?” “I like the way you talk about it!” the young man cried. “She won’t gobble me down. Don’t be afraid.” “She won’t leave you on your knees,” Percy declared. “What the devil’s the inducement?” “You talk about proposing—wait till I _have_ proposed,” Lord Lambeth went on. His friend looked at him harder. “That’s right, my dear chap. Think of _all_ the bearings.” “She’s a charming girl,” pursued his lordship. “Of course she’s a charming girl. I don’t know a girl more charming—in a very quiet way. But there are other charming girls—charming in all sorts of ways—nearer home.” “I particularly like her spirit,” said Bessie’s admirer—almost as on a policy of aggravation. “What’s the peculiarity of her spirit?” “She’s not afraid, and she says things out and thinks herself as good as any one. She’s the only girl I’ve ever seen,” Lord Lambeth explained, “who hasn’t seemed to me dying to marry me.” Mr. Beaumont considered it. “How do you know she isn’t dying if you haven’t felt her pulse? I mean if you haven’t asked her?” “I don’t know how; but I know it.” “I’m sure she asked _me_—over there—questions enough about your property and your titles,” Percy declared. “She has done that to me too—again and again,” his friend returned. “But she wants to know about everything.” “Everything? Ah, I’ll warrant she wants to know. Depend upon it she’s dying to marry you just as much, and just by the same law, as all the rest of them.” It appeared to give the young man, for a moment, something rather special to think of. “I shouldn’t like her to refuse me—I shouldn’t like that.” “If the thing would be so disagreeable then, both to you and to her, in heaven’s name leave it alone.” Such was the moral drawn by Mr. Beaumont; which left him practically the last word in the discussion.