"I'm in no hurry." She looked him straight in the face, rather defiantly. "I've made up my mind since I've been away. I'm not a good hand at speeches or at spooning, but I'm fond of you, Isobel. I'll make you a good husband--and it's for you to consider whether you'll ever get a better chance." "I should like more time to think it over." "Oh, come, don't tell me you haven't been thinking it over for weeks past. What's the difficulty?" "I'm not in love with you--that's all." "I don't expect to inspire a romantic passion, like young Harry." "Can't you leave Harry Belfield out of it?" she asked irritably. "I see he has bored you," chuckled Wellgood. "But you like me? We get on together?" "Yes, I like you, and we get on together. But I don't want to marry yet." "No more do I--just yet!" He rose and went to the mantelpiece to choose a pipe. "Have you got any friends you could stay a month with?" His back was to her; he was busy filling the pipe. He saw neither the sudden stiffening of her figure nor the fear in her eyes. Was he going to send her away--now? But she answered coolly, "Yes, I think I could arrange it, if you wish." "Somehow a man feels rather a fool, being engaged himself while his girl's getting married. We should have all the idiots in the neighbourhood buzzing about with their jokes and congratulations. I've made a plan to avoid all that. We keep it quite dark till Vivien's wedding; then you go off, ostensibly for good. I stay here and give the place an overhauling; then I'll join you in town, we'll be married there, and go for a jaunt. By the time we come back they'll have cooled down--and they'll be jolly glad to have shirked their wedding presents." By now he had turned round; the strain and the fear had passed from Isobel; the month's visit to friends was not to come now. "How do you like the scheme?" he asked. "I like the scheme very much, and I'm all for keeping it quiet till Vivien is disposed of." He stood before her, smoking his pipe, his hands in his pockets. "Shall we call it settled?" "I don't want to call it settled yet." He put down his pipe. "Look here, Isobel, because I can't make pretty speeches, don't you think I don't feel this thing. I want you, and I want the thing settled. You ought to know your mind by now. If you want to say no, you can say it now, but I don't believe you do. Then why can't you say yes? It's devilishly uncomfortable to go on living in the house with you while the thing's unsettled." Would the visit come into play after all, unless she consented? Isobel sat in thought. "Just understood between ourselves--that's what I mean. I shan't bother you with much love-making, as I daresay you can guess."