Cluny Vosse was also at the house, and his devotion was divided between Delia and Gaston. Cluny was a great favourite, and Agatha Gasgoyne, who had a wild sense of humour, egged him on with her sister, which gave Delia enough to do. At last Cluny, in a burst of confidence, declared that he meant to propose to Delia. Agatha then became serious, and said that Delia was at least four years older than himself, that he was just her--Agatha’s--age, and that the other match would be very unsuitable. This put Cluny on Delia’s defence, and he praised her youth, and hinted at his own elderliness. He had lived, he had seen It (Cluny called the world and all therein “It”), he was aged; he was in the large eye of experience; he had outlived the vices and the virtues of his time, which, told in his own naive staccato phrases, made Agatha hug herself. She advised him to go and ask Mr. Belward’s advice; begged him not to act until he had done so. And Cluny, who was blind as a bat when a woman mocked him, went to Gaston and said: “See, old chap,--I know you don’t mind my calling you that--I’ve come for advice. Agatha said I’d better. A fellow comes to a time when he says, ‘Here, I want a shop of my own,’ doesn’t he? He’s seen It, he’s had It all colours, he’s ready for family duties, and the rest. That’s so, isn’t it?” Gaston choked back a laugh, and, purposely putting himself on the wrong scent, said: “And does Agatha agree?” “Agatha? Come, Belward, that youngster! Agatha’s only in on a sisterly-brotherly basis. Now, see I’ve got a little load of L s. d., and I’m to get more, especially if Uncle Dick keeps on thinking I am artless. Well, why shouldn’t I marry?” “No reason against it, if husband and father in you yearn for bibs and petticoats.” “I say, Belward, don’t laugh!” “I never was more serious. Who is the girl?” “She looks up to you as I do-of course that’s natural; and if it comes off, no one’ll have a jollier corner chez nous. It’s Delia.” “Delia? Delia who?” “Why, Delia Gasgoyne. I haven’t done the thing quite regular, I know. I ought to have gone to her people first; but they know all about me, and so does Delia, and I’m on the spot, and it wouldn’t look well to be taking advantage of that with her father and mother-they’d feel bound to be hospitable. So I’ve just gone on my own tack, and I’ve come to Agatha and you. Agatha said to ask you if I’d better speak to Delia now.” “My dear Cluny, are you very much in love?” “That sounds religious, doesn’t it--a kind of Nonconformist business? I think she’s the very finest. A fellow’d hold himself up, ‘d be a deuce of a swell--and, hang it all, I hate breakfasting alone!” “Yes, yes, Cluny; but what about a pew in church, with regular attendance, and a justice of the peace, and little Cluny Vosses on the carpet?” Cluny’s face went crimson. “I say, Belward, I’ve seen It all, of course; I know It backwards, and I’m not squeamish, but that sounds--flippant-that, with her.”