Elsie was sincere enough now. She was genuinely astounded. She knew Pip for a man of blunt speech and direct methods, but she had hardly been prepared for this. She merely turned from red to white, and repeated her astonished cry,-- "_Pip!_" Pip continued, quite coolly now,-- "Yes, I mean it. I have been in love with you from the first moment I saw you, the afternoon that I took you to the Blanes' garden-party. You remember?" The girl nodded gravely. "I was bowled over then, and I've worshipped you ever since. I suppose you knew that? Women are always said to know these things. Did you know?" This was a long speech for Pip, but it drew no answer from Elsie. "Did you know?" he repeated gently. Elsie plucked a few bents from the sand around her and began to plait them with great care. "Did you know?" asked Pip for the third time. Elsie answered, without raising her eyes-- "Yes--at least, lately. But you never gave yourself away, Pip." "I know that. I rather prided myself on it. I should have asked you long ago, only after the Governor's death I had to--work for a living. It's only recently I have become a man with money. Besides, I think these things ought to be kept sacred, just between--between the two, you know. I haven't a very high opinion of myself, but I do think I can keep a secret. I wasn't going to have you talked about, even by friends. However"--he brought his gaze back from the distant horizon with an effort--"we are wandering from the point. Will you play me a match, Elsie,--a love-match?" Elsie raised her eyes for the first time. "Pip, don't be absurd!" "Absurd? Not a bit. I think it's a jolly sensible notion. I simply can't talk the sort of rot that men in love are supposed to talk--it isn't in me. All I can do is to make you a fair offer like this--a sort of challenge to single combat, you know. If I win, you give in to me; if you win, well, I shall have to chuck it, that's all." "But Pip," said Elsie, "supposing I...." Then she checked herself suddenly, leaving Pip to wonder what she had meant to say. He himself could see no flaw in the scheme. His own natural modesty prevented him from believing that Elsie, glorious creature, could ever desire to take him of her own free will, and consequently his simple mind had reverted to the primitive notion, inherent in most men, of marriage by conquest. His challenge to a golf-match struck him as an eminently sporting offer. "I figured it out this way," he went on after a pause. "I said to myself, 'She will never marry me simply for the asking, of course'; so--what did you say?" "Nothing." Elsie had suddenly ceased plaiting and parted her lips.