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ey, when he had tasted Miss Claughton's claret, wished he was; so there was no temptation to linger over the wine. In the drawing-room they had "music." Stella played and sang. Rodney, whose taste in music was as fastidious as in other things, would have been content had she done neither. She had not got a bad little voice; from the point of view of those who liked little voices of the kind; but he had always been of opinion that it was worth more to the professors of singing than to anybody else. Still, she sang straight at him, and for him only; so it was not so bad. Presently Mr. Austin vanished, and the Misses Claughton followed. So he put his arm about Stella's waist, and that was better. She was even more disposed to be made love to after dinner than before, and somehow she seemed prettier and sweeter and more desirable to him. Under such conditions he was the kind of young man who was bound to shine.
After a while--quite an agreeable while--he led the conversation on to the subject which Mr. Austin had broached in the morning. The lady lent a complacent ear.
"Stella, I have a very serious question which I wish to put to you."
"What is it? If you can be serious."
"You will find I can when you have heard my question; I pray you incline your little pink ears unto my question. Will you marry me?"
"Perhaps, some day--silly!"
"When is 'some day'?"
"When would you like it to be?"
"This day; to-night."
"Rodney, you--you really mustn't talk like that."
"Why mustn't I?"
"You only proposed last Saturday."
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