“Because it really isn’t kind. Do you want me to go away to-morrow? If you propose to me, and I refuse you, every possible rule of propriety demands that I should immediately return to Market Harford. And I don’t want to.” Louis hesitated. “How long are you staying?” “Nice, hospitable young man. Agneta has asked me to stay for a fortnight.” “All right.” Louis sat back upon his heels. “Let’s talk about books. Have you read Pender’s last? It’s a wonder—just a wonder.” * * * * * * * * Elizabeth enjoyed her fortnight’s stay very much. She was glad to be away from Market Harford, and she was glad to be with Agneta and Louis. She saw one or two good plays, had a great deal of talk of the kind she had been starving for, and met a good many people who were doing interesting things. On the last day of her visit Agneta said: “So you go back to Market Harford for a year. Is it because Mr. Mottisfont asked you to?” “Partly.” There was a little pause. “What are you going to do with your life, Lizabeth?” Elizabeth looked steadily at the blue of her ring. Her eyes were very deep. “I don’t know, Neta. I’m waiting to be told.” Agneta nodded, and looked understanding. “And if you aren’t told?” “I think I shall be.” “But if not?” “Well, that would be a telling in itself. If nothing happens before the year is up, I shall come up to London, and find some work. There’s plenty.” “Yes,” said Agneta. She put her little pointed chin in her hands and gazed at Elizabeth. There was something almost fierce in her eyes. She knew very little about David Blake, but she guessed a good deal more. And there were moments when it would have given her a great deal of pleasure to have spoken her mind on the subject. They sat for a little while in silence, and then Louis came in, and wandered about the room until Agneta exclaimed at him: “Do, for goodness’ sake, sit down, Louis! You give me the fidgets.” Louis drifted over to the hearth. “Have you ordered any meals,” he said, with apparent irrelevance. “Tea, dinner, breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner again.” Agneta’s tone was vicious. “Is that enough for you?” “Very well, then, run away and write a letter to Douglas. I believe you are neglecting him, and there’s a nice fire in the dining-room.” Agneta rose with outraged dignity. “I don’t write my love-letters to order, thank you,” she said “and you needn’t worry about Douglas. If you want me to go away, I don’t mind taking a book into the dining-room. Though, if you’ll take my advice—but you won’t—so I’ll just leave you to find out for yourself.” Louis shut the door after her, and came back to Elizabeth. “Number nine,” he observed. “No, Louis, don’t.” “I’m going to. You are in for it, Lizabeth. Your visit is over, so you can’t accuse me of spoiling it. Number nine, and a fortnight overdue. Here goes. For the ninth time of asking, will you marry me?” Elizabeth shook her head at him. “No, Louis, I won’t,” she said.