"That would be most unattractive," said Miss Hugonin, calmly. "You're very stupid, Billy, to think of living abroad. Billy, I think you're almost as stupid as I am. I've been very stupid, Billy. I thought I liked Mr. Kennaston. I don't, Billy--not that way. I've just told him so. I'm not--I'm not engaged to anybody now, Billy. But wasn't it stupid of me to make such a mistake, Billy?" That was a very interesting mosaic there in the summer-house. "I don't understand," said Mr. Woods. His voice shook, and his hands lifted a little toward her and trembled. Poor Billy dared not understand. Her eyes downcast, her foot tapping the floor gently, Margaret was all one blush. She, too, was trembling a little, and she was a little afraid and quite unutterably happy; and outwardly she was very much the tiny lady of Oberon's court, very much the coquette quintessentialised. It is pitiable that our proud Margaret should come to such a pass. Ah, the men that you have flouted and scorned and bedeviled and mocked at, Margaret--could they see you now, I think the basest of them could not but pity and worship you. This man is bound in honour to another woman; yet a little, and his lips will open--very dry, parched lips they are now--and he will tell you, and your pride will drive you mad, and your heart come near to breaking. "Don't you understand--oh, you silly Billy!" She was peeping at him meltingly from under her lashes. "I--I'm imagining vain things," said Mr. Woods. "I--oh, Peggy, Peggy, I think I must be going mad!" He stared hungrily at the pink, startled face that lifted toward his. Ah, no, no, it could not be possible, this thing he had imagined for a moment. He had misunderstood. And now just for a little (thought poor Billy) let my eyes drink in those dear felicities of colour and curve, and meet just for a little the splendour of those eyes that have the April in them, and rest just for a little upon that sanguine, close-grained, petulant mouth; and then I will tell her, and then I think that I must die. "Peggy----" he began, in a flattish voice. "They have evidently gone," said the voice of Mr. Kennaston; "yes, those beautiful, happy young people have foolishly deserted the very prettiest spot in the gardens. Let us sit here, Kathleen." "But I'm not an eavesdropper," Mr. Woods protested, half angrily. I fear Margaret was not properly impressed. "Please, Billy," she pleaded, in a shrill whisper, "please let's listen. He's going to propose to her now, and you've no idea how funny he is when he proposes. Oh, don't be so pokey, Billy--do let's listen!" But Mr. Woods had risen with a strange celerity and was about to leave the summer-house.