“Come, give me a kiss.” She positively blushed when he took it without more ado. “Upon my soul, you make me feel a perfect stripling. Shall we say in six weeks? That will bring us to the end of the season, and I can safely leave Lionel to preach to a regiment of empty pews.” “For heaven’s sake sit down quietly, and let me get a word in.” “Not till you’ve agreed. I won’t let you go till you’ve fixed the day.” “You shall fix the day yourself,” she cried, extricating herself from his embrace. Canon Spratte, with a laugh of triumph, threw himself into a comfortable chair. He was excited and restless. He knew he had never looked handsomer than at this moment, and he would not have changed places with a guardsman of twenty-five. “What I wanted to tell you is that I have an income of five thousand a year,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “I cannot bear these gross and sordid details,” he answered, with a wave of the hand. “Of course it shall be settled absolutely upon you. What more is there to be said?” “Only that it ceases on the day I marry again.” Canon Spratte started and for a moment his face fell. “All of it?” he asked. “Every penny. My husband was a very generous man, but he had apparently no desire to provide for the wants of his successor. On my second marriage everything I have, the very furniture of this house, goes to a distant cousin of his.” She watched the Canon for the effect of this blow, and she could not deny that he took it admirably. “I’m very glad,” he said. “I much prefer to provide for your wants myself. I shouldn’t like to think you were living on another man’s income.” “Do you realize that I shall be so penniless, you will even have to provide the clothes for my back and my very fare when I take the tube?” “It will only make you more precious to me.” The doors were swung open and the butler announced the first arrivals, Mrs. Fitzherbert stepped forward to greet them. Ten minutes later the whole party was seated round the dinner-table.