ely, having cast round in her mind for a
topic that might interest--"I wonder what you will attempt next? Jock
says you want to climb Everest. He is frightfully excited about it, and
wishes you would wait a few years till he is grown up and ready."

"Jock is a jewel, and he will certainly go with me when I attempt
Everest, if that time ever comes."

They had reached the entrance to Hopetoun: the avenue to the house was
short. "Would you mind," said Lord Bidborough, "walking on with me for a
little bit?..."

"But why?" asked Jean, looking along the dark, uninviting road. "They'll
wonder what's become of us, and tea will be ready, and Mrs. Hope doesn't
like to be kept waiting."

"Never mind," said Lord Bidborough, his tone somewhat desperate. "I've
got something I want to say to you, and this may be my only chance.
Jean, could you ever--I mean, d'you think it possible--oh, Jean, will
you marry me?"

Jean backed away from him, her mouth open, her eyes round with
astonishment. She was too much surprised to be anything but utterly
natural.

"Are you asking me to marry you? But how _ludicrous_!"

The answer restored them both to their senses.

Lord Bidborough laughed ruefully and said, "Well, that's not a pretty
way to take a proposal," while Jean, flushed with shame at her own
rudeness, and finding herself suddenly rather breathless, gasped out,
"But you shouldn't give people such frights. How could I know you were
going to say anything so silly? And it's my first proposal, and I've
_got on goloshes_!"

"Oh, Jean! What a blundering idiot I am! I might have known it was a
wrong moment, but I'm hopelessly inexperienced, and, besides, I couldn't
risk waiting; I so seldom see you alone. Didn't you see, little blind
Jean, that I was head over ears in love with you? The first night I came
to The Rigs and you spoke to me in your singing voice I knew you were
the one woman in the world for me."

"No," said Jean. "No."

"Ah, don't say that. You're not going to send me away, Penny-plain?"

"Don't you see," said Jean, "I mustn't _let_ myself care for you, for
it's quite impossible that I could ever marry you. It's no good even
speaking about such a thing. We belong to different worlds."

"If you mean my stupid title, don't let that worry you. A second and the
Socialists alter that! A title means nothing in these days."

"It isn't only your title: it's everything--oh, can't you _see_?"

"Jean, dear, let's talk it over