“You can’t subdue me so easily as that. Does it mean nothing to you that the band is playing the most sentimental tunes and that all these roses have turned the place into a garden?” “You see, I’m never so foolish as to forget that I’m long past forty.” “I never think of your age,” he answered, and for the life of her she could not tell if he was in earnest. “To me you are a lovely woman, kind and witty and delightful.” She looked at him calmly. “What do you think Lionel would say if he heard you talk such rubbish?” “Lionel is wisely occupied with his own affairs. I’ve sent him to propose to Gwendolen Durant. He was shy, but I told him it was the simplest thing in the world. I told him to look at her fan.” The Canon opened his partner’s and smiled into her eyes. “And that I told him would lead him naturally to take her hand.” He audaciously seized Mrs. Fitzherbert’s, but she, with a laugh, withdrew it. “I gather your meaning without your actually giving an example,” she said. The Canon’s blue eyes sparkled with all the fire of youth. Another dance had begun and they were left alone in their alcove. “Look here, why don’t you marry me?” he asked, suddenly. Mrs. Fitzherbert was taken completely aback. It had never dawned on her that his bantering speeches could tend to any such end. “My dear man, have you taken leave of your senses?” “My children are making their own homes, and I shall be left alone. Whatever you say, we’re neither of us old yet. Why shouldn’t we join forces?” “It’s too absurd,” she said. “That I should want to marry you? Look in your glass, dear friend, and it will tell you there are a hundred good reasons.” He put his arm round her, and before she realized what he was about, kissed her lips. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” “But I haven’t accepted,” she cried. “I told you I never took a refusal; I shall inform Sophia that you’ve promised to marry me.” Giving her no time to reply, he jumped up, pressed her hand lightly, and disappeared. Mrs. Fitzherbert did not know whether to be amused or angry. The affair seemed like a joke that had been carried too far, and she really could not believe that the Canon meant what he said. Suddenly an idea struck her. A smile came to her lips and she began to laugh. The idea gained shape. She threw back her head and laughed till the tears positively ran down her cheeks. But the Canon returned to the ball-room feeling not a day more than twenty-five. Winnie came up to him. “I’m ready to go home when you like, papa. I’m rather tired.” He looked at his watch. “Nonsense! One’s not tired at two in the morning at your age. Why, I feel as fit as a fiddle. Come.” He seized her, and before she knew where she was, whirled her into the middle of the room. He would not let her expostulate, but danced as though he would never tire. His spirits were so high that he could have shouted at the top of his voice.