Her mother gave a short, bitter laugh. "I am _passée_," she said through her teeth. "I ought to have known better. I ought to have sent you as my ambassador! You might have been able to come to terms. Tell me," she cried sharply, grasping her daughter's wrist, "tell me what you thought of him? Sombre, interesting--eh? The strong silent man--that kind of thing? You must have used your eyes in a way that I am sure I never taught you." Virginia stood transfixed. She felt as if she were talking to a stranger. This was a mother she had never seen. "Oh, mother, dear, what can you mean?" she remonstrated, in low, hurt tones. With another mirthless laugh, Mrs. Mynors flung back upon her sofa pillows. She began to pour tea into a cup, and her hand shook. "How little girls understand," said she with sarcasm. "Tell me now, honestly, what _did_ you think of him?" Virginia remained a moment, searching her memory. Every minute of that afternoon was etched clearly in her mind's eye. "Mims did not like him at all," said she. "She thought he meant to be rude. But I thought that he looked--very unhappy." "A case of mutual love at first sight, evidently," was the scornful comment. "Well, shall you have him, Virgie? I am to make you the formal offer of his hand." "Mother, I think--I think I had better leave you to drink some tea and rest," said the meek Virginia. "I really can't understand what you mean, you are talking wildly, and I am afraid the long, hot journey has unnerved you." "Stop, Virgie, don't go out. I forbid it. You must stay and listen to what I have to say. Before saying it, I wanted to find out just how much had passed between you, and I understand things a little better after what you tell me. Well! In short, I have what Mr. Gaunt calls a business offer to put before you, and you have until to-morrow afternoon's post in which to make up your mind." Virginia obediently seated herself upon a chair opposite her mother, who, between sips of tea, told her of the offer made by Gaunt. The elder woman's mind was in a strange tumult--she hardly knew which was the keener feeling in her--her furious jealousy or her devouring desire that her daughter should accept the offer which would lift them out of poverty. On her journey down in the train, she had been growing used to the idea. The sense of outrage, which had stung her so smartly at first, subsided a little, in the light of other considerations. What chances of matrimony had Virginia? Since she had let young Rosenberg slip through her fingers, her mother was beginning to see that she was not the kind of girl to seize chances, even should they present themselves. If Gaunt were serious in his wild plan, if it could be shown that he was financially solvent and able to do as he promised, then she had better swallow her feelings and take what she could get.