Lady Medlincourt looked from one to the other.  She was more than a trifle bewildered.

“Bless the boy!” she exclaimed.  “You don’t call this bothering her with questions, do you?  She can tell me about her people, can’t she?”

“Her people,” he answered firmly, “are going to be my people.”

Lady Medlincourt gasped.

“You have known her, then,” she said, “about three weeks?”

“I have known her long enough to realize that she is the girl whom I have been waiting for all my life.”

Lady Medlincourt shrugged her shoulders.

“All your life!” she exclaimed impatiently.  “Twenty-eight silly years!  Have you nothing more to say to me than this, either of you?  Do you seriously mean that you bring this very charming young lady here, and ask me to accept her as your fiancee, without a single word of explanation as to her antecedents, who she is, or where she came from?”

Virginia rose to her feet.

“Guy,” she said, turning towards him, “we ought never to have come here.  Lady Medlincourt has a perfect right to ask these questions.  Until we can answer them we ought to go away.”

Guy took her hand in his.

“Aunt,” he said, “can’t you trust a little in my judgment?  Look at her.  She is the girl whom I love, and whom I am going to trust with my name.  Can’t you let it go at that for the present?”

Lady Medlincourt shook her head.

“No, I cannot, Guy!” she said, “and if you weren’t a silly fool you would not ask me.  The future Duchess of Mowbray has to explain her position, whether she is a gentlewoman or a chorus girl.  There’s plenty of rope for her nowadays.  She may be pretty well anything she pleases, but she must be some one.  Don’t think I am a brute, dear,” she added, turning not unkindly to Virginia.  “I like your appearance all right, and I dare say we could be friends.  But if you wish me to accept you as my nephew’s future wife, you must remember that the position which he is giving you is one that has its obligations as well as its pleasures.  You’ll have to open your pretty little mouth, or I am afraid I can’t do anything for you.”

Virginia turned to Guy.

“Your aunt is quite right,” she said.  “I know it must sound very foolish, but I came over here on an errand which I cannot tell any one about just yet.”

“That, of course, is for you to decide,” Lady Medlincourt said, rising, “but I wouldn’t be silly about it if I were you.  I must go and change my gown, as I have some people coming for bridge.  Supposing you show her the house, Guy, and when I come back perhaps both of you may have changed your minds and be a little more reasonable.  Remember,” she added, turning to Virginia, “that I am quite serious in what I say.  It will give me very great pleasure to be of any possible use to the affianced wife of my favourite nephew, but there must be no secrets.  I hate secrets, especially about women.  If your father is a market-gardener it’s all right, so long as you can explain exactly who you are and where you came from; but there must be no mystery.  Talk it over with her, Guy.  I’ll look in here on my way out.”