"About Constance? Ah, May, you are cruel! You know too well your power!" he said, endeavouring to give a pathetic intonation to his voice, but producing only an odd, croaking, throaty sound. Then May decided, in her own mind, that he _had_ been taking too much wine; and, angry and disgusted, she tried to rise from her chair and leave him. But she was hemmed in by the little table, and on her first movement, Theodore took hold of the skirt of her dress to detain her. May turned round upon him with a pale, indignant face, and flashing eyes. "Don't touch my dress, if you please. I wish to go away." "Miss Cheffington--May--you must hear what I have to say now. You must know it without my saying, for I have loved you so long and so devotedly. But I have a right to be heard." May was thunderstruck. But she perceived in a moment that she had, in one sense, done him injustice--he had not drunk too much wine. But this----! This was worse! How far easier it would have been to forgive Theodore if he had even got tipsy--just a little tipsy--instead of making such a declaration! She supposed she had no right to be disgusted; she had heard that properly behaved young ladies always took an offer of marriage to be a great honour. But she was disgusted, nevertheless; and so far from feeling honoured, she was conscious of a distressing sense of humiliation. She tried, however, to keep up her dignity, and at the same time to say what was right to this--this dreadful young man, who had suddenly presented himself in the odious light of wanting to make love to her. "Oh, please don't say any more. I'm very much obliged to you. I mean I'm extremely sorry. But I beg you won't say another word, and forget all about it as quickly as possible." "Forget it! Nay, that is out of the question. I could not if I would." Theodore began to recover his self-command as May lost hers. She was agitated and trembling. Well, he would not have had her listen to his words unmoved. She was very young and inexperienced. And he had, it seemed, taken her by surprise. "Is it possible," he continued softly, "that you were quite unprepared to hear----" "Quite unprepared. But that makes no difference. And you really must allow me to go away. I'm very sorry, indeed, but I can't stay here another moment." "Am I so repulsive?" said he, with a sentimental beseeching glance. But he met an expression in her face which made him add quickly, in quite another tone, "Well, well, I will prefer your wishes to my own," at the same time drawing himself and his chair to one side. She had looked almost capable of leaping over the table to escape. May brushed past him, and darted away out of the room without another word.