the courses that followed, peace
descended upon them. Even to talk music soothes the savage breast. It
soothed Cassy and to such an extent that, finally, when the ice came she
made no bones about admitting it was her favourite dish.

"Du cafe, monsieur? Des liqueurs?" the slacker asked.

But no, Paliser did not wish anything else, nor did Cassy. The ice
sufficed. She ate it slowly, a little forkful at a time, wishing that
her father could share it, wishing that he, too, could have sofa'd
supremes and some one to pay for them. She raised her napkin.

Paliser lit a cigarette and said: "You made no reply to that statement
of mine."

She stared. "What statement?"

"About saving your life."

"And ruining my reputation?"

"Well, life comes first. I said you would have to marry me to pay for
it. Will you?"

Cassy lowered the napkin. He was talking in jest she knew, or thought
she knew, but the subject was not to her taste, though if he had been
serious she would have disliked it still more. She wanted to give it to
him, but no fitting insolence occurred to her and she turned to the
window before which two Japanese were passing, with the air, certainly
feigned, which these Asiatics display, of being hilarious and naif.

"Will you?" he repeated.

"Will I what?"

"Marry me?"

Perhaps he did mean it, she thought. He was cheeky enough for anything.
But now he was prodding her. "Say yes. Say to-morrow; say to-day."

She turned on him. "Why not yesterday? Or is it just another of your
pearls of thought? You are simply ridiculous."

Paliser put down his cigarette. "That is the proper note. Marriage is
ridiculous. But it is the most ancient of human institutions. Divorce
must have been invented at least three weeks later."

Cassy did not mean to laugh and did not want to, but she could not help
herself and she exploded it. "You are so ardent!"

Innocently Paliser caressed his chin. He had made her laugh and that was
a point gained. But such pleasure as he may have experienced he
succeeded in concealing.

"Again the proper note! I am ardent. Yet--shall I admit it?--formerly I
walked in darkness. It is all due to my father. I have forgotten the
prophet preaching on the hillside who denounced respectability as a low
passion. But my father, while deeply religious, has views more advanced.
He dotes on respectability. He tried to instil it into me and, alas! how
vainly! I was as the blind, the light was withheld and con