BOOK SIXTH: MRS. BROOK
But the point of his question was lost for her in the growing light. "Oh then, the condition's you only—?"
"That, at any rate, is all I have to do with. He's ready to settle if I'm ready to do the rest."
"To propose to her straight, you mean?" She waited, but as he said nothing she went on: "And you're not ready. Is that it?"
"I'm taking my time."
"Of course you know," said Mrs. Brook, "that she'd jump at you."
He turned away from her now, but after some steps came back. "Then you do admit it."
She hesitated. "To you."
He had a strange faint smile. "Well, as I don't speak of it—!"
"No—only to me. What is it he settles?" Mrs. Brook demanded.
"I can't tell you."
"You didn't ask?"
"On the contrary—I stopped him off."
"Oh then," Mrs. Brook exclaimed, "that's what I call declining!"
The words appeared for an instant to strike her companion. "Is it? Is it?" he almost musingly repeated. But he shook himself the next moment free of his wonder, was more what would have been called in Buckingham Crescent on the spot. "Isn't there rather something in my having thus thought it my duty to warn you that I'm definitely his candidate?"
Mrs. Brook turned impatiently away. "You've certainly—with your talk about 'warning'—the happiest expressions!" She put her face into the flowers as he had done just before; then as she raised it: "What kind of a monster are you trying to make me out?"
"My dear lady"—Vanderbank was prompt—"I really don't think I say anything but what's fair. Isn't it just
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