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‘If,’ said Mr. Fletcher, ‘your only reason for denying me a continuance of hope is the desire to spare me the pain of an ultimate refusal, then I trust that you will reconsider it. I am not of such poor material that I cannot submit myself to the inevitable, but first let me be assured that it is the inevitable to which I am submitting,’

‘If my replies do not now give you that assurance, Mr. Fletcher, it is possible they may be no more effectual later on.’

‘At least you will be possessed of the knowledge of my feelings towards you,’ Mr. Fletcher said, disregarding this suggestion; ‘and your final resolve, if no more favourable, will at any rate be the result of mature consideration.’

Eve moved uneasily. It seemed that she was being asked so little that it was mere obstinacy to refuse. But also it seemed that she was being asked so much that there was very little more to be conceded. She had not reached her twenty-first year without receiving an offer of marriage, but she had never had a lover who pursued the matter with such pertinacity as Mr. Fletcher. That gentleman, indeed, seemed possessed of a fecundity of argument and a resolution to exploit it which must be allowed to be somewhat unusual in the circumstances.

‘It is, of course, impossible for me to prevent you renewing the subject should you desire to do so,’ she said at last.

‘May I take that for a permission to address you again?’ Mr. Fletcher asked at once.

It seemed that there was no escape on that road, and Eve became slightly exasperated. ‘No,’ she said, with more firmness than she had yet shown,