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down his steps from above in his shirt-sleeves and put his arm across the stair-way.

‘Now, Miss Flirt, before you go down,’ he said peremptorily. ‘It is a fortnight since I spoke, and this won’t do any longer. You must tell me what you mean, or I shall have to leave this house. My door was ajar just now, and I saw you. For your own safety I must go. You don’t know. Well? Is it to be yes at last?’

‘I am only just up, Mr. Clare, and it is too early to take me to task!’ she pouted, ‘You need not call me Flirt. ’Tis cruel and untrue. Wait till by and by. Please wait till by and by! I will really think seriously about it between now and then. Let me go downstairs!’

She looked a shade like what he said she was as, holding the candle sideways, she tried to smile away the seriousness of her words.

‘Call me Angel, then, and not Mr. Clare.’

‘Angel.’

‘Angel, dearest—why not?’

‘’Twould mean that I agree, wouldn’t it?’

‘It would only mean that you love me, even if you cannot marry me; and you were so good as to own that long ago!’