"Then I'm afraid you will have some time to wait," he said. "It will not be leap year again until 1912." This sounded impertinent; but the Boy could no more have been guilty of intentional impertinence toward her, than he could have picked her pocket; and Miss Charteris knew it. There was one thing of which those who had dealings with Christobel Charteris could always be sure--absolute justice. She had seen the Boy's face whiten suddenly, to a terrible pallor, beneath his tan. She knew he was making a desperate fight for self-control. How best could she help? Her own part seemed almost more than she could manage. "Come here, Boy dear," she said, holding out her hand. He hesitated one instant; then rose unsteadily to his feet, and came--not to his usual place at the side, bending over her; but in front of her, on one knee, silently waiting. She bent forward. "Take my hand, Boy." He took it, in a firm unhesitating clasp. They held each other so, in silence. The colour came back into the Boy's face. The dumb horror died out of his eyes. They smiled into hers again. "Now promise me, Boy dear, that you will let me tell you all; and that you will try not to misunderstand." "My dearest," said the Boy, "I promise. But I do not need to say I will try not to misunderstand. I could not misunderstand you, if I tried." "Then go back to your chair, Boy." He went. His eyes were bright again. "Boy, please to understand that I am not engaged to the Professor. Of course, had that been the case, I should have told you, long ago. He has never said one word to me of love or marriage. But he has been a great friend--an intimate friend, intellectually; and I have reason to know that he wishes--has wished for years--a good deal more than he has ever expressed to me. He has waited, Boy; and when anybody has waited nearly twelve years, could one fail them?" "Why, of course!" cried the Boy, eagerly. "If a man could wait twelve years--good heavens, why shouldn't he wait twenty! A man has no business to wait; or to be able to wait; or to keep a woman waiting. Twelve years? Oh, I say! I didn't wait twelve days. Now, did I?" She smiled. "You break all speed records, Boy, always. But cannot you understand that all men have not fifty thousand a year, and the world at their feet? Had you been penniless, Boy, you--even you--would have had to wait." "Not a bit!" said the Boy, stoutly. "I would drive a cab, I would sweep a crossing, I would _do_ anything, or _be_ anything; but I wouldn't wait for the woman I loved; nor would I"--his voice dropped almost to a whisper--"keep the woman who loved me, waiting." "But suppose she had a comfortable little income of her own; and you had less--much less--to offer her? Surely, Boy, proper pride would keep you from asking her to marry you, until your income at least equalled hers?"