So presently Rose and Peter found themselves leaning over a gate at the end of a long, sequestered path.

“That,” said Rose, nodding towards open paddock, “is the boys’ cricket ground.  They play matches in the holidays with the stations round.  That fence leads to Alice’s fowl-yards—­”

“Yes,” said Peter.  “But now, look here, Miss Rose—­tell me straight and true—­am I to understand that my position in life makes me unfit to associate with you?”

“What nonsense!” she protested, scarlet in the darkness.  “What utter stuff!”

“I am in retail trade,” confessed Peter mournfully, “and lots of people think that awful.  Why, even the bookmakers and Jew usurers look down on us!  Not that I care a straw—­”

“I should think not!”

“Except when it comes to your family—­”

“What does it matter about my family—­when I—­”

“Ah, do you?  Do you forgive me for being a shopkeeper?”

“As if I ever thought of it!” mocked Rose, which was disingenuous of her.  “I don’t mind what anybody is if he’s nice himself.”

“Do you think I’m nice?”

“I am not going to pander to such egregious vanity.”

“Do you think I am a gentleman?  Do I pass for one—­say, in a house like this?”

“I am not going to answer any more of those horrid, indelicate, unnecessary questions.”

“Ah, I see—­you don’t.”

“I do,” she flamed out, indignant with him.  “You know I do!  Would I—­ if I didn’t—­”

Her mouth was stopped.  In the twinkling of an eye it happened, before either of them knew it.  He was carried away, and she was overwhelmed.  An earthquake could not have given them a greater shock.

“Forgive me,” he muttered tremulously, when it was too late.  “I know I oughtn’t to have—­but I couldn’t help it!  You are not angry?  It was dashed impudence—­but—­oh, I say! we shall never get such a chance as this again—­could you, do you think, put up with me?  Could you—­I have loved you ever since that dear morning that you came about Bruce—­could you try to care for me a little bit?  I’d give up the business, if you wished, and go into something else—­” “If you mention that blessed business again,” laughed Rose hysterically, “I won’t speak to you any more.”

“I won’t—­I won’t!” he promised, a joyful ring in his young voice.  “As long as you don’t mind—­and of course I wouldn’t like to disappoint the old pater—­and, thank God, there’s plenty of money to make you comfortable wherever you like to live—­Yes, yes, I know it’s awful cheek—­I’ve no business to count chickens like this; but here we are, face to face at last, no one to keep me from speaking to you—­and oh, darling, it must be time for the next dance, and I’m engaged for it—­”

“Then go—­go,” she urged.  “The one after this is ours, and I will wait here for you till you come back.  It is only Jim, and he doesn’t matter.  I must be alone to think—­to make up my mind—­”