'I thought you didn't approve of wedding favours?' It was an opening of the siege at the very furthermost outworks of the position which she frustrated by a laugh. 'Oh, it doesn't matter! other people seem to like them, and I've made you such a beauty. There it is, beside you on the table--take care! you're almost sitting on it. Smell it, it's real orange-blossom.' There was apparently not a vacant chair in the room. They were all occupied with white wreaths and true lovers' knots--but with a cross here and there he was glad to see--so he continued to lean against the table, smelling perfunctorily at his own favour, and thinking of the utter inconsequence of the feminine mind, until a certain irritation came to his aid. 'I wish you would put that work down for a minute, Rose,' he said quietly. 'I have something I want to say to you.' Her hands paused, arrested among the white ribbons, her mind on one word; for he had never before called her by her Christian name. So she sat looking at him doubtfully, with the light from the windows behind her edging the great coils of her hair with bronze. 'I have come to tell you that I'm a fool,' he began almost argumentatively. 'At least, I suppose it's foolish. I am quite ready to admit, if you like, that it is so; but the fact remains. I can't go on as we are--as we have been, I should say--any longer. Don't think it is because I cannot understand. I do--at least I think I do. You are my friend, Rose, and will be that always, I hope. I don't say the best friend I ever had, or ever shall have, because that has nothing to do with the question, and, besides, there aren't any degrees in friendship--you have taught me that. So I think you may admit that I understand you. The question is, if you will understand me.' He paused, and Rose's kind shadowless eyes noted with a sudden shrinking back from the sight, that his usual calm was broken by a palpable effort to steady his voice. He felt, indeed, that he had not the least clew to the girl's mind; that he was absolutely taking a leap in the dark. And that what he had to say now was, in reality, so foreign to every single word they had ever said to each other before, that even if she consented to marry him he could not be sure if she meant it--if she really understood the difference which he saw so clearly. 'Rose,' he went on, 'the fact is, that I've fallen in love with--with you; and if you don't really want to marry me, I had better go away. I would take an out-district for a time. I've had enough--perhaps too much--secretary work.' He seemed to take refuge in details from the main point. 'Why--why should you go away?' asked Rose in a low voice. 'We were very happy, weren't we?' Her eyes, which had sought her hands among the white satin bows, came back to his face anxiously, almost fearfully.