'I think I'll do it by post,' she said. 'It'll sound so much more becoming.' 'You'd better get it over now.' 'You know, I don't really want to marry you a bit. I'm only doing it to please you.' 'I admire your unselfishness.' 'You will say yes if I ask you?' 'I refuse to commit myself.' 'Obstinate beast,' she cried. She curtsied once more, as well as she could since he was firmly holding her hands. 'Sir, I have the honour to demand your hand in marriage.' He bowed elaborately. 'Madam, I have much pleasure in acceding to your request.' Then he drew her towards him and put his arms around her. 'I never saw anyone make such a fuss about so insignificant a detail as marriage,' she murmured. 'You have the softest lips I ever kissed,' he said. 'I wish to goodness you'd be serious,' she laughed. 'I've got something very important to say to you.' 'You're not going to tell me the story of your past life,' he cried. 'No, I was thinking of my engagement ring. I make a point of having a cabochon emerald: I collect them.' 'No sooner said than done,' he cried. He took a ring from his pocket and slipped it on her finger. She looked from it to him. 'You see, I know that you made a specialty of emeralds.' 'Then you meant to ask me all the time?' 'I confess it to my shame: I did,' he laughed. 'Oh, I wish I'd known that before.' 'What would you have done?' 'I'd have refused you again, you silly.' * * * Dick Lomas and Mrs. Crowley said nothing about their engagement to anyone, since it seemed to both that the marriage of a middle-aged gentleman and a widow of uncertain years could concern no one but themselves. The ceremony was duly performed in a deserted church on a warm September day, when there was not a soul in London. Mrs. Crowley was given away by her solicitor, and the verger signed the book. The happy pair went to Court Leys for a fortnight's honeymoon and at the beginning of October returned to London; they made up their minds that they would go to America later in the autumn. 'I want to show you off to all my friends in New York,' said Julia, gaily. 'Do you think they'll like me?' asked Dick. 'Not at all. They'll say: That silly little fool Julia Crowley has married another beastly Britisher.' 'That is more alliterative than polite,' he retorted. 'On the other hand my friends and relations are already saying: What on earth has poor Dick Lomas married an American for? We always thought he was very well-to-do.' They went into roars of laughter, for they were in that state of happiness when the whole world seemed the best of jokes, and they spent their days in laughing at one another and at things in general. Life was a pleasant thing, and they could not imagine why others should not take it as easily as themselves.