y to his
name, or a hope save in her.

From the screen, she turned to Paliser, who, aware of her absence, had
omitted to recall her. Now, though, that she again condescended to be
present, he addressed her in his Oxford voice.

"But what was I saying? Yes, I remember, something that somebody said
before me. Nowadays every one marries except a few stupid women and a
few very wise men. Yet, then, as I told you, I have no pretensions to
wisdom."

"Nor I to stupidity," Cassy thoughtlessly retorted. Yet at once,
realising not merely the vanity of the boast but what was far worse, the
construction that it invited, she tried to recall it, tangled her
tongue, got suddenly red and turned away.

"You do me infinite honour then," said Paliser, who spoke better than he
knew. But her visible discomfort delighted him. He saw that she wanted
to wriggle out of it and, like a true sportsman, he gave her an opening
in which she would trip.

"Matrimony is temporary insanity with permanent results. You must not
incur them blindfolded. Do me the favour to look this way. Before you
sits a pauper."

In the surprise of that, Cassy did look and walked straight into it.
"What?"

"Precisely." In sheer enjoyment he began lying frankly and freely. He
lied because lying is a part of the game, because it is an agreeable
pastime and because, too, if she swallowed it--and why shouldn't
she?--it might put a spoke in such wheels as she might otherwise and
subsequently set going.

"Precisely," he repeated. "It is different with my father. My father has
what is called a regular income. One of these days I shall inherit it.
It will keep us out of the poorhouse. But meanwhile I have only the
pittance that he allows me."

Yes, Cassy sagaciously reflected. What with Paliser Place, its upkeep
and the rest of it, it must be a pittance. But the lie behind it, which
she mistook for honesty, tripped her as it was intended to do. A moment
before she might have backed out. Now, in view of the lie that she
thought was truth, how could she? It would be tantamount to
acknowledging she was for sale but that he hadn't the price. Red
already, at the potential shame of that she got redder.

Paliser, who saw everything, saw the heightening flush, knew what it
meant, knew that he was landing her, but knew, too, that he must bear
the honours modestly.

"Bread and cheese in a cottage and with you!" he exclaimed. "But,
forgive me, I am becoming lyrical." He turne