'That is possible,' he cried. 'Ah, who can comprehend the eccentricity of an English prude, who will give all, yet refuse to answer a letter, and who insists on addressing her lover as monsieur.' 'Be good enough to leave this house, M. de Tournefort,' said May, rising with great dignity, though her face was pale and her lips were trembling. 'You intrude here, uninvited, and have strangely forgotten yourself since your arrival. I request that you will relieve me of your presence at once.' 'Ah, May,' cried De Tournefort, clasping his hands, and looking feelingly towards her, 'do not be so cruel to me! I apologise in the humblest manner for what I said just now; it was wicked, cruel, and unmanly, but I did not know what I was saying--I was driven mad by your harshness.' 'I do not know what kind of reception you could have expected at my hands,' said May. 'I purposely did not answer your letter, in order that there might be no chance of any misunderstanding between us. You talk to me about the offer which you made me in that letter! It was not a voluntary letter--it did not come until weeks after I had been thrust from my home, during which time you had maintained absolute silence; and when it did come, it was made, not from any love for me, but simply because you felt it due to make it, in order that you might stand well in the eyes of the world.' 'If you think that,' said De Tournefort quietly, 'I can well understand both your silence and the manner of your reception of me to-day. That letter was written in all honesty and good faith, and prompted simply by my love for you. You ought to know me well enough to recognise that I am not one of those who care much for the opinion of the world. By what you call in England respectable society I was already condemned for the part which I had played with regard to you, and no _amende_ which I could have made would have set me right with them had I required their good will. With the social _vauriens_ with whom I live such a step would have been regarded as a serious blunder, unworthy of a man with any pretensions to _esprit_. These facts themselves ought to convince you that I was in earnest, and that in making the offer I was prompted solely by my love for you; but there is a yet more potent argument, which must convince you, and that is my presence here. I told you that when you were free I would claim you for my wife. You are free now. I made it my business to learn when this case was coming on, and I came over to England on purpose to learn the result in person. To-day I have been in the law-court and heard the decree pronounced. You are no longer Lord Forestfield's wife; will you be mine?'