"Over there, talking to Lady St. Leath." She looked across, and there he was, so big and tall and fine, so splendid in his grand clothes. Her heart swelled with pride. "Isn't he splendid, mother, dear?" "Who?" "Father!" "Splendid?" "Yes; doesn't he look splendid to-night? Better looking than all the rest of the room put together?" (Johnny wasn't _good-looking_. Better than _good-looking_.) "Oh--look splendid. Yes. He's a very handsome man." Joan felt once again that little chill with which she was so often familiar when she talked with her mother--a sudden withdrawal of sympathy, a pushing Joan away with her hand. But never mind--there was the music again, and here, oh, here, was Johnny! Someone had once called him Tubby in her hearing, and how indignant she had been! He was perhaps a little on the fat side, but strong with it.... She went off with him. The waltz began. She sank into sweet delicious waters--waters that rocked and cradled her, hugged her and caressed her. She was conscious of his arm. She did not speak nor did he. Years of utter happiness passed.... He did not take her, as Mr. Forsyth had done, into the public glare of the passage, but up a crooked staircase behind the Minstrels' Gallery into a little room, cool and shaded, where, in easy-chairs, they were quite alone. He was shy, fingering his gloves. She said (just to make conversation): "How beautiful Miss Daubeney is looking!" "Do you think so?" said Johnny. "I don't. I'm sick of that girl. She's the most awful bore. Mother's always shoving her at my head. She's been staying with us for months. She wants me to marry her because she's rich. But we've got plenty, and I wouldn't marry her anyway, not if we hadn't a penny. Because she's a bore, and because"--his voice became suddenly loud and commanding--"I'm going to marry you." Something--some lovely bird of Paradise, some splendid coloured breeze, some carpet of magic pattern--came and swung Joan up to a high tree loaded with golden apples. There she swung--singing her heart out. Johnny's voice came up to her. "Because I'm going to marry you." "What?" she called down to him. "I'm going to marry you. I knew it from the very first second I saw you, that day after Cathedral--from the very first moment I knew it. I wanted to ask you right away at once, but I thought I'd do the thing properly, so I went away, and I've been in Paris and Rome and all over the place, and I've thought of you the _whole_ time--every minute. Then mother made a fuss about this Daubeney girl--my not being here and all that--so I thought I'd come home and tell you I was going to marry you." "Oh, but you can't." Joan swung down from her appletree. "You and me? Why, what _would_ your mother say?" "It isn't a case of _would_ but _will_" Johnny said. "Mother will be very angry--and for a considerable time. But that makes no difference. Mother's mother and I'm myself."