“Oh no.  I am sure you can wait for five minutes.  I don’t want to keep you for more than five minutes.  But it is so hard for a fellow to get an opportunity to say a few words.”

“What words can you want to say to me, Mr. Anderson?” This she said with a look of great surprise, as though utterly unable to imagine what was to follow.

“Well, I did hope that you might have some idea of what my feelings are.”

“Not in the least.”

“Haven’t you, now?  I suppose I am bound to believe you, though I doubt whether I quite do.  Pray excuse me for saying this, but it is best to be open.”  Florence felt that he ought to be excused for doubting her, as she did know very well what was coming.  “I—­I—­Come, then; I love you!  If I were to go on beating about the bush for twelve months I could only come to the same conclusion.”

“Perhaps you might then have considered it better.”

“Not in the least.  Fancy considering such a thing as that for twelve months before you speak of it!  I couldn’t do it,—­not for twelve days.”

“So I perceive, Mr. Anderson.”

“Well, isn’t it best to speak the truth when you’re quite sure of it?  If I were to remain dumb for three months, how should I know but what some one else might come in the way?”

“But you can’t expect that I should be so sudden?”

“That’s just where it is.  Of course I don’t.  And yet girls have to be sudden too.”

“Have they?”

“They’re expected to be ready with their answer as soon as they’re asked.  I don’t say this by way of impertinence, but merely to show that I have some justification.  Of course, if you like to say that you must take a week to think of it, I am prepared for that.  Only let me tell my own story first.”

“You shall tell your own story, Mr. Anderson; but I am afraid that it can be to no purpose.”

“Don’t say that,—­pray, don’t say that,—­but do let me tell it.”  Then he paused; but, as she remained silent, after a moment he resumed the eloquence of his appeal.  “By George!  Miss Mountjoy, I have been so struck of a heap that I do not know whether I am standing on my head or my heels.  You have knocked me so completely off my pins that I am not at all like the same person.  Sir Magnus himself says that he never saw such a difference.  I only say that to show that I am quite in earnest.  Now I am not quite like a fellow that has no business to fall in love with a girl.  I have four hundred a year besides my place in the Foreign Office.  And then, of course, there are chances.”  In this he alluded to his brother’s failing health, of which he could not explain the details to Miss Mountjoy on the present occasion.  “I don’t mean to say that this is very splendid, or that it is half what I should like to lay at your feet.  But a competence is comfortable.”

“Money has nothing to do with it, Mr. Anderson.”