“Do not say it so suddenly, then,” I said, turning my head away, so that he could not see how I was laughing. “You see, to a red-haired person like me these compliments go to my head.” “Oh, I do not want to flurry you,” he said, affably. “I know I have been a good deal sought after--perhaps on account of my possessions” (this with arrogant modesty), “but I am willing to lay everything at your feet if you will marry me.” “Everything!” I asked. “Yes, everything.” “You are too good, Mr. Montgomerie--but what would your mother say?” He looked uneasy, and slightly unnerved. “My mother, I fear, has old-fashioned notions--but I am sure if you went to her dressmaker--you--you would look different.” “Should you like me to look different then--you wouldn’t recognize me, you know, if I went to her dressmaker.” “I like you just as you are,” he said, with an air of great condescension. “I am overcome,” I said, humbly; “but--but--what is this story I hear about Miss Angela Grey? A lady, I see in the papers, who dances at--the Gaiety, is it not? Are you sure she will permit you to make this declaration without her knowledge?” He became petrified. “Who has told you about her?” he asked. “No one,” I said. “Jean said your father was angry with you on account of a horse of that name, but I chanced to see it in the list of attractions at the Gaiety--so I conclude it is not a horse, and if you are engaged to her, I don’t think it is quite right of you to try and break my heart.” “Oh, Evangeline--Miss Travers”--he spluttered. “I am greatly attached to you--the other was only a pastime--a--oh! we men you know--young and--and--run after--have our temptations you know. You must think nothing about it. I will never see her again, except just finally to say good-bye. I promise you.” “Oh! I could not do a mean thing like that, Mr. Montgomerie,” I said. “You must not think of behaving so on my account--I am not altogether heartbroken, you know--in fact I rather think of getting married myself.” He bounded up. “Oh! you have deceived me then!” he said, in self-righteous wrath. “After all I said to you that evening at Tryland, and what you promised then! Yes, you have grossly deceived me.” I could not say I had not listened to a word he had said that night, and was utterly unconscious of what I had promised. Even his self-appreciation did not deserve such a blow as this! so I softened my voice, and natural anger at his words, and said quite gently, “Do not be angry. If I have unconsciously given you a wrong impression, I am sorry, but if one came to talking of deceiving, you have deceived me about Miss Grey, so do not let us speak further upon the matter. We are quits. Now, won’t you be friends, as you have always been”--and I put out my hand, and smiled frankly in his face. The mean little lines in it relaxed--he pulled himself together and took my hand, and pressed it warmly. From which I knew there was more in the affair of Angela Grey than met the eye.