So they entered the house, and Luke, having left his companion in the parlour, went down to apprise his sister. Jane came up, and gave the girl a civil greeting. It was not cordial, nor did Totty affect warmth of feeling. Mrs. Poole speedily left the two to themselves. Totty sat in her chair rather stiffly. She was not accustomed to take her ease in rooms even as well appointed as this. Luke tried to be merry, to show that he was delighted, to be affectionate; he did not succeed very well. Presently they were sitting at a little distance from each other, each waiting for the other to speak. 'When is it to be?' Ackroyd said at length, bending forward. 'I don't know. Is it _really_ to be?' 'Why not? Of course it is.' Totty had felt colder to him than ever before, since she had entered this room. The strangeness of the surroundings affected her disagreeably. She wished they had walked about in the snowy streets. 'Of course you know we shall always be quarrelling,' she said, with a laugh. 'No, we shan't. It'll be different then. At all event, it'll be your fault if we do.' Silence came again. 'What day?' Luke asked. 'When you like, If you really mean it.' 'Now what's the use of talking in that way? Why _shouldn't_ I mean it?' 'If I ask you a question will you answer me honest?' She was leaning forward, with a touch of colour on her cheeks, and a sudden curious light in her eyes; she seemed ashamed at something, and both eager and reluctant. 'What is it? Yes, I'll answer you the truth.' 'The very truth? No, I shan't ask you. What day do you want it to be?' 'Nonsense! What was the question? I won't listen to anything till you've told me.' 'It was a silly question. I don't really want to ask you. I forget what it was.' Totty was strangely unlike herself, hesitating, diffident, ashamed. He insisted; she refused to speak. He got vexed, turned mute. 'Well then, I _will_ ask you,' Totty exclaimed of a sudden. 'And mind, I shall know if you're honest or not. Suppose both Thyrza Trent and me was in this room, and you had your choice between us, which would it be?' Ackroyd flushed, then looked seriously offended. 'Won't you answer?' 'I don't like to joke about such things.' 'And I don't either, that's the truth; that's why such a thing came into my head. You needn't answer; I'd rather you didn't. Of course I know what you'd have to say.' 'You are talking nonsense. There couldn't be a choice, because I've _made_ my choice. Will you marry me or not?' 'Yes, I will. Any day you like.' 'Yes, and afterwards keep asking me questions like this.' 'It wasn't right, I know. But you're wrong when you say I should ever speak of it again.' 'I don't know what to think, Totty. It looks very much as if _you_ didn't want to have _me_. Now look, here's a question for _you_. Suppose I'd never asked you before to-night, and now I came and asked you to marry me, what would you say? Now, honest.' 'You've not answered me.' 'I have.'