"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think you want?" Valentia answered herself; "It's Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed, commonplace, hard-up, handsome boy. You can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and has only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive regiment, and you, darling, will only have three hundred a year. I should love to see you happy in your own way and having your wish, but don't you think it's a childish fancy? You're both children. Of course he hasn't suggested marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well it's out of the question." "Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me the day we were introduced--at Prince's, and he's been doing it ever since." "Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow, you must wait and see. Even if he could afford it, I don't think it would be a success. Why, there's nothing in the boy! What do you see in him?" "I like the way he laughs," said Daphne, after a pause. "Do you mind telling me one thing straight out? I'm being very nice to you about this, dear. I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must treat me with complete confidence." "Of course, of course, dear." "Tell me, he hasn't ever kissed you, has he?" "Oh, Valentia!" "I beg your pardon, darling. I felt sure he hadn't." "Of course he has." "He has!--Where?" "How do you mean, where? Oh! at every dance where we've ever met. He always does, whenever he can. Is it so dreadful? He's such a boy!" "Fancy your liking him enough for that!" said Valentia, stupefied. "Oh, he's a darling; and the only person I ever could possibly marry." "It's rather serious," said Valentia; "and poor Van who is so devoted!" "He isn't, really," said Daphne decidedly. "Don't you think so? Why?" "Oh, the whole thing's an _idea_--the sort of thing he _wants to do_. It's not genuine." "I should have thought the feelings of a man of thirty-four who could marry any one he chose would be more real than the fancy of a mere boy! Boys like anybody." "Van isn't genuine like Cyril," said Daphne. "Who on earth's Cyril?" "Captain Foster." Valentia walked round the room and then said-- "And you really suppose you're going to adore him all your life?" "I _suppose_ so. I really don't know. I know about now. Oh, Valentia, be a darling and let him come to the fancy ball with us." She kissed her. "And, oh, do tell Harry to explain to Van that it can't go on, that he must put it out of his head. Do, darling Valentia. Any well-brought-up young girl will do for him just as well!" "And wouldn't any well-brought-up young girl do for Cyril?" "I don't know. But only Cyril will do for me. Oh! the jolly way he has of saying 'Righto' and 'You're all right,' and calling me 'little girl!' Oh, he _is_ a dear!" "Oh, well, if he says such brilliant things as _that_!" "It isn't what he _says_----" "Oh, hush, Daphne, here is Romer. I shan't tell him a word about it. Well, I'll think it over." She called Daphne back and said in a half-hearted way--