“Of course, if you’d rather marry at once, I shall be only too charmed. It will make me the happiest of men. It was only on your account that I hesitated. I’m afraid that you’ll have to do without a good many of the luxuries that you’re used to.” “It’s very thoughtful of you,” she murmured. “I’m afraid we shan’t be able to have a carriage.” “You know, I adore riding on ’buses,” she answered, with twinkling eyes. “One sits on the front seat and talks to the driver.” “And then I’m afraid there’ll be no more little trips to Homburg in the summer or to the Riviera in the winter.” “When all’s said and done is there any place in the world so comfortable as London?” “It’s charming to think that you’re so easily satisfied.” She watched him thoughtfully, while he sought to conceal behind a gallant smile a considerable feeling of dismay. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather break off altogether our short engagement?” she asked, suddenly. “Nothing would induce me,” he cried, with the utmost emphasis. “Do you imagine that anything you have said makes you less precious to me? You cannot think so badly of me as to suppose that I no longer wish to marry you, because you are not rich.” “You’re an ambitious man, and an opulent wife might have been of great use to you: a poor one can only be a drawback.” “You pain me very much,” he answered. “I confess I think it would be wise to delay our union, but it would break my heart to put aside all thought of it.” “Oh, I don’t think your heart is such a fragile organ as that. Let us be frank with one another. I venture to flatter myself that you did not want to marry me because of my money, but it’s obvious that a well-regulated passion is not diminished because an attractive widow has five thousand a year. It’s very comprehensible that you shouldn’t wish to marry a pauper.” “I flatter myself on the other hand that I’m by way of being a gentleman.” “Shall we say no more about it? Shall we forget that you murmured various things the other night which you didn’t quite mean?” Mrs. Fitzherbert knew that she was very cruel. It was plain that he wished with all his might to accept his release. He suffered the torture of Tantalus, for escape lay within his easy reach, and he had not the effrontery to take it. He was a man who lived for the noble gesture, and he could not bring himself to make one that was uncommonly prosaic. “I assure you no one shall know anything about it,” she added. “I promise you I will be as silent as the grave.” He looked at her with an indecision that was almost pitiful. “If I accepted your suggestion you’d despise me all your life,” he said. There was something in his tone that made Mrs. Fitzherbert think she had gone far enough. He was really suffering this time, and she could not bear to see it. She went up to him quickly, and smiling, put her hands on his shoulders.