"You need not be so savage with me, John. What was your own business at Holloway?" "I went to ask Marion Fay to be my wife." "You did?" "Yes; I did. Why should I not? It seems the fashion for us all now to marry just those we fancy best." "And why not? Have I gainsaid you? If this Quaker's daughter be good and honest, and fair to look at--" "That she is fair to look at I can say certainly. That she is good I believe thoroughly. That she is honest, at any rate to me, I cannot say as yet." "Not honest?" "She will not steal or pick a pocket, if you mean that." "What is it, John? Why do you speak of her in this way?" "Because I have chosen to tell you. Having made up my mind to do this thing, I would not keep it secret as though I were ashamed of it. How can I say that she is honest till she has answered me honestly?" "What answer has she made you?" she asked. "None;--as yet! She has told me to come again another day." "I like her better for that." "Why should you like her better? Just because you're a woman, and think that shilly-shallying and pretending not to know your own mind, and keeping a fellow in suspense, is becoming. I am not going to change my mind about Marion; but I do think that mock hesitation is unnecessary, and in some degree dishonest." "Must it necessarily be mock hesitation? Ought she not to be sure of herself that she can love you?" "Certainly; or that she should not love me. I am not such a puppy as to suppose that she is to throw herself into my arms just because I ask her. But I think that she must have known something of herself so as to have been able to tell me either to hope or not to hope. She was as calm as a Minister in the House of Commons answering a question; and she told me to wait till Friday just as those fellows do when they have to find out from the clerks in the office what it is they ought to say." "You will go again on Friday?" she asked. "Of course I must. It is not likely that she should come to me. And then if she says that she'd rather not, I must come home once more with my tail between my legs." "I do not think she will say that." "How can you tell?" "It is the nature of a girl, I think," said Lady Frances, "to doubt a little when she thinks that she can love, but not to doubt at all when she feels that she cannot. She may be persuaded afterwards to change her mind, but at first she is certain enough." "I call that shilly-shally." "Not at all. The girl I'm speaking of is honest throughout. And Miss Fay will have been honest should she accept you now. It is not often that such a one as you, John, can ask a girl in vain." "That is mean," he said, angrily. "That is imputing falseness, and greed, and dishonour to the girl I love. If she has liked some fellow clerk in her father's office better than she likes me, shall she accept me merely because I am my father's son?"