"Well," said he, "I came here this afternoon thinking—hoping—there might be some more definite understanding between you and me: yes, I was hoping for much—and then—and then I found you quite careless and thoughtless, just as if nothing at all had happened last night——" "Last night?" she repeated. "Yes," said he, rather reproachfully. "Don’t you remember what happened last night? Don’t you know that you pressed my hand to your heart? But perhaps that was nothing—perhaps that meant nothing at all——" "It meant a very great deal, Vincent," said she, warmly, looking up at him with honest eyes. "We were talking of the value of true friends—and I could not say much—yet I wished to tell you what I thought of all your goodness and kindness. Indeed, indeed it meant a great deal, Vincent—and I hoped you would understand——" "I have understood too much," said he, and he was silent for a second. Then he went on. "I thought you had something more than that to say to me, Maisrie. For why need I tell you what you must have guessed already? You know I love you; you must have seen it all this time; there was no need for me to speak. And when the future has but the one hope for me, that some day or other you should be my wife, then perhaps I was too eager to believe it had all come true—that you were giving me a promise in that quiet way—and no need of a spoken word between us. But I was mistaken, I see. You only meant friendship. You only wanted to say ’Thank you!’ to a friend——" But by this time she had risen from her chair; and there was in her eyes the strangest look of pride, and joy, and perhaps, too, of sadness. "Do you know what you are saying, Vincent?" she said, quite gently. "You—of all people in the world—" She hesitated: she regarded, with admiring, and grateful, and affectionate eyes, this handsome lad on whom fortune had shed all good things—and perhaps she could not quite confess all she thought. "You—of all people in the world—every one making much of you—every one hoping such great things of you—and you come seeking a wife here." She glanced round at the shabby little apartment. Then she turned her eyes towards him again; and there was a smile in them, of an unstable kind; and tears were gathering in the lashes. "Well," she said, "it will be something for me to think of. It will be something for me to be proud of. There can be no harm in that. I shall be able to say to myself ’Vincent thought so well of you that he once asked you to be his wife’——"