She turned away from him with an impatient gesture. He had never managed
to embarrass her before.
"I should like you better if you weren't so officious," she said.
"But you have no one else to look after you," objected Lord Ronald.
"Well, in any case, it isn't your business," she threw back, almost
inclined to laugh at his audacity.
"It would be if you married me," he pointed out, as patiently as if he
were dealing with a fractious child.
"If I----"
She wheeled abruptly, amazed out of her disdain. It was the most prosaic
proposal she had ever had.
"If you married me," he repeated, keeping his eyes upon her. "You admit
that I am harmless, so you would have nothing to fear from me. And as a
watch-dog, I think you would find me useful--and quite easy to manage,"
he added, with his serene smile.
Beryl was staring at him in wide astonishment. Was the man mad to
approach her thus?
"No," he said. "I am quite sane; eccentric perhaps, but--as you are kind
enough to observe--quite harmless. I never proposed to any woman before
in my life, or so much as wanted to, so that must be my excuse for doing
it badly. Really, you know, Mrs. Denvers, you might do worse than marry
me. You might indeed."
But at that her indignation broke bounds. If he were not mad, it made
him the more intolerable. Did he fancy himself so desirable, then, that
he had merely to fling her the handkerchief--to find her at his feet?
His impertinence transcended belief.
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