'Ah, he finds one person so charming that I don't think he thinks much about the rest,' she said. Look, there they are.' Bilton did not look; he had already seen them; he usually saw things first. 'Do you think he will marry her?' he asked. 'Yes; certainly, I hope so. If he marries at all, he must marry money.' 'And Nature clearly designed Miss Palmer to be a peeress. In fact, the match was made in heaven.' 'I hope it will be ratified on earth,' she said. 'Why are you cynical about it?' 'I am never cynical; what makes you think that?' 'Well, simple, direct; it comes to the same thing. To tell the truth is often the most cynical thing you can do.' 'Not if it is a pleasant truth. And it will be very pleasant to Miss Palmer to be an English peeress. And, as you said yourself, it is only possible for Lord Keynes to marry money. And he is fortunate in his money-bag,' he added. She frowned a little; there was something in this speech which, with all her admiration for his countrymen, struck her as both characteristic and disagreeable. He saw it. 'Ah, that offends you,' he said quickly. 'I apologize. I wish you would teach me better. You know there is a something, an inherent coarseness, about us, which I have seen get, ever so slightly, on to your nerves fifty times a day.' She laughed. 'Teach you!' she said; 'I am learning far too much myself.' 'You learning? What, for instance?' 'Not to be finicking, not to be slack and dawdling. To go ahead and do something. If a person of my nature was in Mr. Palmer's place, do you suppose I should go on working as he does? I would never touch a business question again.' He shook his head. 'Believe me, you would; you would not be able to help it. Lewis Palmer can't stop; his wife can't stop; I can't stop, in my small way. But you at present have the power of stopping. It is the most exquisite thing in the world. To us, to me, I assure you, it is like a cool breeze on a hot day to see you leisurely English people. In England you have a leisured class; we have none. Our wealthy class is the least leisured of all. If you adore us, as you say, grant us the privilege of seeing you like that.' There was something in this speech that rather touched her--something also that certainly pleased her, and that was the tone of honest deference in which he spoke. 'In fact, you want to be English,' she said, laughing it off, 'and I want to be American.' And she looked at him, smiling. But he did not smile at all, only again his brown eyes grew hot and black. That, too, pleased her. Then suddenly she felt vaguely frightened; she had not definitely intended to give him his chance now, and she did not wish him to take it. So she rose. 'Take me back,' she said. 'Take me into a crowd of your people. I want to learn a little more.' CHAPTER VIII