"I have barely a quarter of an hour, Stirling," she said. "It was too absurd of you to be sitting there talking to father all the time. Come and say nice things to me. Mother has gone upstairs to put on her tiara." He held her at arm's length for a moment, looking at her. She was not very tall, but she was graceful, and she carried herself as the women of her family had done since the days of Elizabeth. Her face was a little cold, except when she smiled, and her eyes were large and brilliant. There was about her toilette and her features a sort of trim perfection, which left no room for criticism. She was considered, amongst those whom she called her friends, handsome rather than beautiful, and ambitious rather than affectionate. Nevertheless, she blushed most becomingly when Deane stooped to kiss her, and her face certainly seemed to lose for the time its somewhat cold expression. "You are going to the Waldrons', I suppose?" he remarked. "You look charming, dear." She made a little grimace. "It's too bad that you won't be there. However, in a few days that will be all right. Now that our engagement is announced, everyone will send you cards, of course, for everywhere I go." He smiled a little doubtfully. "You won't expect too much of me in that way, will you?" he asked. "My afternoons, for instance, are nearly always occupied." "You will not find me exacting," she said, with a reassuring nod. "I don't expect you to play the part of social butterfly at all, and although we must be seen together sometimes, of course, I haven't the least desire to keep you dangling at my heels. Tell me, what has father been talking to you about?" "He has been urging me to leave the city," Deane said, "and buy an estate." Lady Olive looked thoughtful. "That is very interesting," she said. "What have you to say about it?" he asked. "It depends," she answered, "very much upon circumstances. I am not sure that I approve of a man having nothing whatever to do. Besides, I have no idea how rich you are, Stirling. I think I ought to warn you that I am very extravagant." "I am delighted to hear it," he assured her. "I should dislike a wife who wouldn't spend my money." They were sitting side by side upon a sofa, and she toyed with her fan for several moments. Then she held out her right hand to him, and allowed it to remain in his grasp. For Lady Olive, this was distinctly a lover-like proceeding. She was not at all sure in her own mind whether such a liberty was judicious, having been brought up always to consider any display of affection as utterly _bourgeois_. "It seems a curious question to ask," she said thoughtfully; "but, after all, it would be only affectation to pretend that I was not interested. Tell me what your income is--about, Stirling?" "In round figures," he answered, "it is to-day, I should think, a trifle over twenty-five thousand a year."