Mrs. Gracedew had caught hold; yet there were places where her grasp was weak, and she had, strikingly, begun again to reflect. “But his name and his position, great as they may be, are his dreadful politics!” Cora threw herself with energy into this advance. “You _know_ about his dreadful politics? He’s to change them,” she recited, “to get _me_. And if he gets me----” “He keeps the house?”--Mrs. Gracedew snatched it up. Cora continued to show her schooling. “I go _with_ it--he’s to have us both. But only,” she admonishingly added, “if he changes. The question is--_will_ he change?” Mrs. Gracedew appeared profoundly to entertain it. “I see. _Will_ he change?” Cora’s consideration of it went even further. “_Has_ he changed?” It went--and the effect was odd--a little too far for her companion, in whom, just discernibly, it had touched the spring of impatience. “My dear child, how in the world should _I_ know?” But Cora knew exactly how anyone would know. “He hasn’t seemed to care enough for the house. _Does_ he care?” Mrs. Gracedew moved away, passed over to the fireplace, and stood a moment looking at the old armorial fire-back she had praised to its master--yet not, it must be added, as if she particularly saw it. Then as she faced about: “You had better ask him!” They stood thus confronted, with the fine old interval between them, and the girl’s air was for a moment that of considering such a course. “If he does care,” she said at last, “he’ll propose.” Mrs. Gracedew, from where she stood in relation to the stairs, saw at this point the subject of their colloquy restored to view: Captain Yule was just upon them--he had turned the upper landing. The sight of him forced from her in a flash an ejaculation that she tried, however, to keep private--“He does care!” She passed swiftly, before he reached them, back to the girl and, in a quick whisper, but with full conviction, let her have it: “He’ll propose!” Her movement had made her friend aware, and the young man, hurrying down, was now in the hall. Cora, at his hurry, looked dismay--“Then I fly!” With which, casting about for a direction, she reached the door to the court. Captain Yule, however, at this result of his return, expressed instant regret. “I drive Miss Prodmore away!” Mrs. Gracedew, more quickly still, eased off the situation. “It’s all right!” She had embraced both parties with a smile, but it was most liberal now for Cora. “Do you mind, one moment?”--it conveyed, unmistakeably, a full intelligence and a fine explanation. “I’ve something to say to Captain Yule.” Cora stood in the doorway, robust against the garden-light, and looking from one to the other. “Yes--but I’ve also something more to say to _you_.” “Do you mean now?” the young man asked. It was the first time he had spoken to her, and her hesitation might have signified a maidenly flutter. “No--but before she goes.”