“Oh, Nelly,” she cried, throwing herself into an easy chair, and covering her face with her hands. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” She opened her fingers and looked whimsically at her cousin, who, despising this stage business, said, impatiently: “Well?” “Do you know what Sholto came for?” “To propose to you.” “Stop, Nelly. You do not know what horrible things one may say in jest. He _has_ proposed.” “When will the wedding be?” “Dont joke about it, please. I scarcely know how I have behaved, or what the meaning of the whole scene is, yet. Listen. Did you ever suspect that he was—what shall I say?—_courting_ me?” “I saw that he was trying to be tender in his own conceited way. I fully expected he would propose some day, if he could once reconcile himself to a wife who was not afraid of him.” “And you never told me.” “I thought you saw it for yourself; particularly as you encouraged him.” “There! The very thing he has been accusing me of! He said I had given him unequivocal tokens—yes, unequivocal tokens—that I was madly in love with him.” “What did you say?—if I may ask.” “I tried to explain things to him; but he persisted in asking me would I be his wife; and when I refused he would not listen to anything else, and went off in a rage.” “Yes, I can imagine Sholto’s feelings on discovering that he had humbled himself in vain. Why did you refuse him?” “Why! Fancy being Sholto’s wife! I would as soon think of marrying Marmaduke. But I cannot forget what he said about my flirting with him. Nelly: will you promise to tell me whenever you think I am behaving in a way that might lead anybody on to—like Sholto, you know?” “Nonsense! If men choose to make fools of themselves, you cannot prevent them. Hush! I hear someone coming upstairs. It is Marmaduke, I think.” “Marmaduke would never come up so slowly. He generally comes up three steps at a time.” “Sulky after last night, no doubt. I suppose he wont speak to me.” Marmaduke entered listlessly. “Good morning, Marian,” he said, sitting down on an uncomfortable chair. “Good morrow, Nell.” Elinor, surprised at the courtesy, looked up and saluted him snappishly. “Is there anything the matter, Duke?” said Marian. “Are you ill?” “No, I’m all right. Rather busy: thats all.” “Busy!” said Elinor. “There must be something even more unusual than that, when you are too low spirited to keep up a quarrel with me. Why dont you sit on the easy chair, or sprawl on the ottoman, after your manner?” “Anything for a quiet life,” he replied, moving to the ottoman. “You must be hungry,” said Marian, puzzled by his obedience. “Let me get you something.” “No, thank you,” said Marmaduke. “I couldnt eat. Just had lunch. Ive come to pack up a few things of mine that you have here.” “We have your banjo.” “Oh, I dont want that. You may keep it, or put it in the fire, for all I care. I want some clothes I left behind me when we had the theatricals.” “Are you leaving London?”