"Oh, Jean! What a blundering idiot I am! I might have known it was a wrong moment, but I'm hopelessly inexperienced, and, besides, I couldn't risk waiting; I so seldom see you alone. Didn't you see, little blind Jean, that I was head over ears in love with you? The first night I came to The Rigs and you spoke to me in your singing voice I knew you were the one woman in the world for me." "No," said Jean. "No." "Ah, don't say that. You're not going to send me away, Penny-plain?" "Don't you see," said Jean, "I mustn't _let_ myself care for you, for it's quite impossible that I could ever marry you. It's no good even speaking about such a thing. We belong to different worlds." "If you mean my stupid title, don't let that worry you. A second and the Socialists alter that! A title means nothing in these days." "It isn't only your title: it's everything--oh, can't you _see_?" "Jean, dear, let's talk it over quietly. I confess I can't see any difficulty at all--if you care for me a little. That's the one thing that matters." "My feelings," said Jean, "don't matter at all. Even if there was nothing else in the way, what about Davie and Jock and the dear Mhor? I must always stick to them--at least until they don't need me any longer." "But Jean, beloved, you don't suppose I want to take you away from them? There's room for them all.... I can see you at Mintern Abbas, Jean, and there's a river there, and the hills aren't far distant--you won't find it unhomelike--the only thing that is lacking is a railway for the Mhor." "Please don't," said Jean. "You hurt me when you speak like that. Do you think I would let you burden yourself with all my family? I would never be anything but a drag on you. You must go away, Richard Plantagenet, and take your proper place in the world, and forget all about Priorsford and Penny-plain, and marry someone who will help you with your career and be a fit mistress for your great houses, and I'll just stay here. The Rigs is my proper setting." "Jean," said Lord Bidborough, "will you tell me--is there any other man?" "No. How could there be? There aren't any men in Priorsford to speak of." "There's Lewis Elliot." Jean stared. "You don't suppose _Lewis_ wants to marry me, do you? Men are the _stupidest_ things! Don't you know that Lewis...." "What?" "Nothing. Only you needn't think he ever looks the road I'm on. What a horrid conversation this is! It's a great mistake ever to mention love and marriage. It makes the nicest people silly. I simply daren't think what Jock would say if he heard us. He would be what Bella Bathgate calls 'black affrontit.'" "Jean, will it always matter to you more than anything in the world what David and Jock and Mhor think? Will you never care for anyone as you care for them?"