"If you're unmoved by the romance of the situation, though I don't see how anyone can be---- I say, just listen to that." The remote digger was apparently working harder than ever. The blows of iron on stone sounded clear and frequent. "How can you refuse to fall into the arms of your lover when a ghost is digging his own grave a few feet above your head?" "Do talk sense, Jimmy, and take me out of this." "I will. I'll do both. Talk sense first and then take you away. Uncle Evie was at me last night about you." "About me?" "Asking me why the deuce I didn't marry you." "Is that what you call talking sense? Sir Evelyn couldn't have said that?" "He did. He put it to me at the point of the bayonet. I can't remember his exact words, but what they amounted to was this: If I didn't marry you, he would. Now what do you say to that?" "I say that you've got an extraordinarily inventive mind. Also that you oughtn't to tell lies about your uncle." "It's not a lie," said Jimmy, "though I admit it's not the whole truth. The suggestion was that I should marry either you or Mary and that he'd marry the other, or rather that he'd marry one of you and I'd marry the other. I give you my solemn word of honour that that's what passed between us last night after you'd gone to bed." "You give me your solemn word of honour that Sir Evelyn suggested----" "As a matter of actual fact," said Jimmy, "the suggestion came from me. But Uncle Evie quite fell in with it. Quite. He hadn't a word to say against it." "Very well," said Beth, "I'll marry your Uncle Evie as soon as he asks me, and then you can marry Mary if she'll have you, which she probably won't. So now that's settled." "Very well. I'll give you a wedding present and all that. But now what about marrying me after Uncle Evie dies? I don't want him to die, for he's always been very decent to me. Still, nobody lives for ever, and he's well over sixty. What do you say to that?" "If I'm ever left a widow and you're a widower about the same time--don't forget you promised to marry Mary--I'll marry you. Will that satisfy you?" "It doesn't in the least. But I suppose it's as much as I'll get out of you to-day." "You won't get even that unless you take me out of this beastly cave where I'm smothering for want of air and terrified out of my senses." They stumbled back together to the bend in the cave from which it was possible to see the sunlight. Beth drew a deep breath of relief and hurried forward, as fast as it was possible to hurry over a track of round, rolling stones. "Don't rush so, Beth," said Jimmy. "I'm out of breath, and there's something I want to say to you." "If it's anything more about my marrying your uncle," said Beth, "I won't listen to it." "It's not. It's something more about your marrying me."