"Mr. Danvers, sir, am I a fool or is she? One of us is, that's certain, and though I asks yer which it is, I knows without bein' told. Maybe I 'ave taken liberties. I was only jokin'. Still, it's unkind o' Evarne to talk to me like that, ain't it? I'd better make up me mind not to go away, and 'ave done with all talk. 'Lonely and un'appy!' Why, it might be the death of 'er--that's what it might be. Yes, my beauty, you've chucked yerself downstairs in a faint once in yer life. You'll be doin' it again." Evarne glanced over her shoulder. "Rubbish! I was ill then." "So yer are now; what's the good o' denyin' it? You'll take a header over the banisters one fine evenin' and cut yer 'ead open on the floor, and it will bleed and bleed and bleed, and no one will know. You'll lie there all night, and in the mornin' you'll be dead--a corpse--d'you hear?--cold and stiff--and all the howlin' in the world won't make yer alive agin." Evarne laughed at this lurid visionary tableau, and recovered her temper. "Why, what a very vivid imagination----" she was commencing. But Geoff interrupted. He had been rapidly turning over in his mind this startling idea of an immediate wedding, and found it rose-coloured. Not only did he long for the day that should give him the woman he loved, but he foresaw that, by his marriage being once put beyond the pale of argument, he would probably avoid a great deal of useless discussion and consequent ill-feeling between himself and his cousin. Except Winborough, he had no relations sufficiently near to feel themselves aggrieved at not having been confided in about the matter--and indeed when were aunts or cousins ever seriously considered in such a case? The one objection to this unconventional suddenness was that it might be more pleasant for Evarne not to have had her wedding in any way apparently hurried or peculiar. But now other circumstances seemed to counter-balance this really very small and indefinite objection. Thus his meditations were not long protracted, and he interrupted Evarne's sentence upon sudden impulse. "Mrs. Harbert is quite right. It would not be at all safe for you to be living absolutely alone while you're liable to these horrible fainting attacks. Dearest--dearest--marry me to-morrow and give me the right to really look after you and care for you. Please don't shake your head. Obviously it is in every way best and advisable. Why do you hesitate? We don't want a smart wedding or anything alarming of that sort, do we? You do care for me, really and truly, don't you, and you believe that you will be safe and happy with me? Mrs. Harbert, you've had a really brilliant idea----" "Lor, sir, I only spoke in fun. I never thought of your takin' it serious-like."