eak to the nape of my neck, and then I have
to twist my head round to answer."

"I know. That was why I put `You in front' upon my letter. I thought
that it would make it easier. But if you would prefer it I will stop the
machine, and then you can sit round and talk about it."

"Good gracious!" cried Ida. "Fancy our sitting face to face on a
motionless tricycle in the middle of the road, and all the people
looking out of their windows at us!"

"It would look rather funny, wouldn't it? Well, then, suppose that we
both get off and push the tandem along in front of us?"

"Oh, no, this is better than that."

"Or I could carry the thing."

Ida burst out laughing. "That would be more absurd still."

"Then we will go quietly, and I will look out for the steering. I won't
talk about it at all if you would rather not. But I really do love you
very much, and you would make me happy if you came to Texas with me, and
I think that perhaps after a time I could make you happy too."

"But your aunt?"

"Oh, she would like it very much. I can understand that your father
might not like to lose you. I'm sure I wouldn't either, if I were he.
But after all, America is not very far off nowadays, and is not so very
wild. We would take a grand piano, and--and--a copy of Browning. And
Denver and his wife would come over to see us. We should be quite a
family party. It would be jolly."

Ida sat listening to the stumbling words and awkward phrases which
were whispered from the back of her, but there was something in Charles
Westmacott's clumsiness of speech which was more moving than the words
of the most eloquent of pleaders. He paused, he stammered, he caught his
breath between the words, and he blurted out in little blunt phrases all
the hopes of his heart. If love had not come to her yet, there was at
least pity and sympathy, which are nearly akin to it. Wonder there was
also that one so weak and frail as she should shake this strong man so,
should have the whole course of his life waiting for her decision. Her
left hand was on the cushion at her side. He leaned forward and took it
gently in his own. She did not try to draw it back from him.

"May I have it," said he, "for life?"

"Oh, do attend to your steering," said she, smiling round at him; "and
don't say any more about this to-day. Please don't!"

"When shall I know, then?"

"Oh, to-night, to-morrow, I don't know. I must ask Clara. Talk about
something else."

And they