"Also," he continued, "that from the beginning, ever since I first met you, even when you made that admission about—him, I always thought of you apart from him, as Maggy—the nice girl." "Maggy—the nice girl!" she echoed in wonder. "When you came down to Purton Towers I seemed to see you as belonging there. Even after you had gone I felt that." "But—how could I belong to Purton Towers?" she asked in a wondering voice. "By marrying me," he said very deliberately. She looked at him blankly for a few seconds. "Marry you!" she faltered. "_Me_—marry you?" "Suppose," he went on, "suppose I said I needed you? I do say it. I believe that we can bring something into each other’s lives that at present is missing, and perhaps always has been. We should, at any rate, be very perfect friends. That would be something." All her face lit up. Her lips quivered. "What an idea! Me and you! At breakfast, at dinner—always.... Purton Towers, and me—your wife! Oh, you dear, I do believe you mean it! As if I could! But I tell you what: let me live in a little cottage in the grounds and sell eggs!" "Oh, Maggy, you child!" he said tenderly. Her eyes brimmed over. She took his hand and kissed it. "Thank you so much," she said. "But it’s—it’s not in the picture. What sort of a wife should I make? No, it wouldn’t do.... And there are other reasons." "Ada Lambert?" he asked gently. "Is that one of them? I loved her as a young man loves the first good woman who comes into his life. I don’t think I do her any disloyalty." "No, it’s not that. What difference could that make? If I could I would make you happy because you lost her. It’s me. I don’t come from a good man. I wouldn’t let any one say that except myself. I loathe what he’s done to me and the way he’s treated me. But I’ve loved him. There’s something I gave him I can never get back. It’s strange: though I never want to hear of him or see him again, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. I should be sorry." "I understand," nodded Chalfont. "But it need not stand between you and me, Maggy. We should start fair." The ghost of a smile flickered on her lips. "Think of the racket there would be in the papers about us! You would be ashamed. And I’m not worth it, really. ’Another peer weds actress. Romance of the stage. The third this season. Below we append other instances of brilliant marriages of stage beauties.’ Think of it!" "I fancy we could keep it out of the papers," he said. "We would be married in the country—in church." "In church!" Her eyes grew misty. "You would—go to church with me? Oh, my dear, that would be more of my dream coming true, like the cedar trees and the cows!" "It’s going to come true," declared Chalfont. She held him away from her. "Don’t tempt me. It’s not the title. That’s only—funny. Me, my lady! What tempts me is the thought of being with you in that place where my heart is." "My home?"