"Of course I love you. How could I help it?" cried Pixie warmly. Her fingers tightened round his with affectionate pressure, her eyes beamed encouragingly upon him. Never could there have been a warmer, a more spontaneous response, and yet, strange to relate, its very ardour had a chilling effect, for Stanor, though young, was experienced enough to realise that it is not in this fashion that a girl receives a declaration of love from the man of her heart. He himself had struggled with shyness and agitation; he was conscious of flushed cheeks, of a hoarseness of voice, of the beating of pulses; then surely a girl taken by surprise, faced suddenly, with the question of such enormous import, should not be less moved than he. The words died upon his lips; involuntarily his hands relaxed their grasp. There was a moment of impossible impasse and strain before, with a realised effort, he forced himself to express a due delight. "That makes me very happy, Pixie. I--I was afraid you might not care. I'm not half good enough for you, I know that, but I'll do my best. I'll do everything I can to make you happy. I'm not rich, you know, darling; we should have to live on what I can make independently of the uncle, for he has peculiar views. He doesn't wish me to marry." "_Marry_!" repeated Pixie deeply. She sat bolt upright in her seat, her eyes suddenly alight with interest and excitement. Incredible as it might appear, Stanor realised that this was the first moment when the idea of marriage had entered her brain. "Is it _marrying_ you are talking about? You want _me_ to marry you?" "You funny little soul. Of course I want it. Why else should I talk about loving?" "I thought," she said sighing, "it was just nice feeling! It's natural for people to love each other. When they live together in the same house and come through trouble. ... And we're both attractive. ... You don't need to marry every one you love!" "I do," declared Stanor, "when it's a girl--when it's _you_! I want to have you for my own, and keep you to myself, and how can I do that if you're not my wife? If you love me, you must want to be with me too. Don't you, dear, don't you wish it? Shouldn't you like to be my wife?" Pixie tilted her head in her well-known attitude of consideration. "I--I think I should!" she pronounced judicially. "I liked you from the moment we met, and you've a good disposition. Dispositions are important in marriage. And I'm domestic; you like domestic girls, and it's convenient when you're poor. ... On how much a head would you expect me to keep house?" But that was too much for Stanor's endurance; he seized her in his strong arms and shook her with a tender violence.