“There will be no honeymoon.”

“And even if he ain’t,” Clarence rattled on, deaf to any drum but his own, “he can buy up a title. They are for sale if the pockets are plump enough. Everyone knows that. He might start off with a simple ‘Sir’ and work his way up to a lordship.”

“I am returning this necklace immediately,” Prudence said, and left with it in her hand.

Her mother rushed after her. “He will be calling today, after this. Wait and hear what he has to say, Prue. Think about it a little. Be wise, my dear. You were always so prudent before.”

“I am being prudent now, Mama. I do not wish to marry Mr. Seville. Indeed I do not. I don’t care for him in the least-in that way I mean.”

“My dear, you must not hope Dammler means to have you. He is quite above your touch. He thinks of you only as a friend. It is clear from his manner.”

Prudence looked aghast. She had not thought she was so transparent as that. “I think of him as a friend, too.”

“A little more than that on your side, I think,” her mother said gently. “I do not mean to force you. Such a thought would be quite repellent to me. You are all grown up now. You must do as you think best, but don’t be rash, my dear. Think of it a bit. It would be very fine to be independent-not to have to worry about the future. We are very comfortable now, but Clarence will not live forever. Sooner or later his son George will be taking over, and he will not want to be saddled with us.”

Prudence did not change her mind, but she agreed to think about it before acting. Every word her mama said was true. They faced a bleak future of comparative poverty. It could be removed by her accepting an offer from a gentleman she did not actively dislike-one who could and would give her everything she wanted, and more importantly, would let her give Mama what she wanted. But the price was too high. She could not consider it independence to be bound leg and wing to Mr. Seville. She did not admit to any other reason for refusing him in her ruminations.

In the afternoon he called, and to remove him from Uncle Clarence’s congratulations, she grabbed her wrap and went out with him.

“You had my little gift?” he asked, as soon as the coach bowled away from the house.

She had it right in her reticule to return. “I cannot accept it, Mr. Seville.”

“It is a mere bauble. When the matter is settled to our mutual satisfaction, I will give you a real necklace. I am not a skint, Miss Mallow. You will not find me clutch-fisted.”

“I know I would not. You are very generous, Mr. Seville, but I cannot feel we would suit.”

“I know I am not clever like you, but you would be able to smarten me up if you felt it worth your while. We would be happy together. A nice apartment-house if you wish-either in the city or country. All would be to your orders.”

She repined, but she did not weaken a whit. “No, really. I think of you only as a friend. I had not thought of any closer association.”

“If it’s money that worries you…"

“No, it’s not that. I know you are wealthy-generous.”

“A cash settlement beforehand. Everything in order right and tight.”

“No, please, it sounds so very mercenary. I do not wish to haggle over it. I am flattered-honoured, but I cannot accept your offer.”

“Is it your family that worries you?”

“Oh, no, they thought it a very good thing. They were not in the least averse. It is quite my own decision.”

This easy capitulation of the family bothered him. “I felt your uncle would not mind, but mothers sometimes throw a rub in the way.”

“Mama is anxious to see me settled. She worries about the future.”

“I would take good care of you.”

“I cannot feel it would answer.” She took the velvet box from her reticule and handed it to him.

“Keep it,” he said magnanimously. “I don’t despair yet. I will have at you again, Miss Mallow. I don’t give up easily.”

“No, it would be improper in me to keep it when I don’t mean to marry you,” she said, and shoved it to him.

Looking with downcast eyes at the box, she did not see his eyes start at the dread word “marry.” He could scarcely believe his ears. No mention had been made of marriage. What had she got into her head-to think he would marry a little nobody without a connection in the world? He feared Miss Mallow was making sport of him. But when she did finally look up, the innocent lustre of her eyes disabused him of that idea. He felt weak, and very fortunate indeed to have escaped so easily from his unprecedented predicament. Only think if she had accepted! He took the box without a word and stuck it into his pocket.

“I expect you would like to go home?” he said a moment later.

She nodded. "I'm sorry,” she said, before she descended from the coach. “I hope we may continue friends?”

“You should be more careful in your friends, Miss Mallow,” he ventured to warn her. Why, the chit was not up to snuff at all. Leading him on-no one with the least bronze would have mistaken his intentions. Her, gallivanting with Dammler and the wildest bucks in town. Who would have thought her still wet behind the ears?

“I am careful, Mr.Seville,” she answered calmly. “Goodbye.”

He didn’t bother going with her to the door, though he descended and handed her down from the carriage. He brushed his brow when she was gone, and thanked a merciful providence at his close escape.

Prudence longed to go to her room, to lie down and worry whether she had done the right thing, but no such luxury was allowed her. Clarence and her mother had to be told the whole story, and berate her with words and glances respectively for her folly. To escape them, she said that now she had chosen a career over marriage, she must get to work, and went to her study.

“I hope your daughter knows what she is about,” Clarence said to his sister. She was not his niece today, turning off a Nabob.

Prudence closed the door behind her and sighed. What a dear refuge her study was! Shakespeare, Milton and Aristotle chided her silently from matching frames with their subtle smiles, but she ignored them and pulled out her manuscript.

It was a quarter of an hour before she was sufficiently calmed to work, and immediately she was interrupted. But it was a happy Interruption. Dammler tapped on the door and stepped in, having dispensed with even the appearance of formality by telling Rose she needn’t bother announcing him.

“Hello, Miss Mallow,” he said smiling cheerily. “Shilla and I bring our humblest apologies for missing our appointment, but we have an excellent excuse.”

An excuse she felt was the right word for it, for the reason she still held to be Phyrne. “But before we get on with the good news, I will convey the bad,” he said, assuming an aspect of severity that was at odds with his jaunty manner. “Ithas come to my burning ears that you did not heed my warning. You’ve been gallivanting with the Nabob again. Don’t deny it!” His finger waved at her in a playful manner. “Riding in the park with him yesterday and hanging on his arm in the most vulgar manner. I mean to be firm with you and Shilla in future. Give you an inch and you take a mile. You girls are all alike. Next thing he will be offering you a carte blanche. There I go depraving you again. I daresay you think a carte blanche is no more than a little white card.”

“You overestimate the depths of my innocence.”

“Say height rather.”

“Say what you like, you do Mr. Seville an injustice.”

“I wonder. He is trotting after you pretty hard, and his intentions you know…”

“Don’t judge everyone by yourself, Lord Dammler," she shot back angrily.

“Oh, ho, I’ve touched a nerve! This bower of bliss in which you create, I suppose was provided by the Nabob.” He looked around at the vases of flowers, two of which had been put in her study. “When a man starts sending too many flowers it is time to beware. He is up to no good. Next it will be a diamond bracelet, and from there-it is well known no lady can resist diamonds-it is the love nest, and a garish turnout for the park with matched horses. Are you sure you’re not hiding a diamond bracelet up your sleeve?” He grabbed her hand, and looked at her wrist, his eyes narrowed in playful suspicion.

“I see you know the procedure well, milord.”

“I am familiar with the moves of the game, shall we say?”

“By all means, let us talk at cross purposes. We wouldn’t want to sink into too clear an understanding. But you look in the wrong place for diamonds. It was a necklace offered, not a bracelet. Mr. Seville meant to treat me more lavishly than you treat your flirts.”

“You are joking, of course. He wouldn’t dare…"

“His daring knows no bounds. He dared to offer me his hand in marriage.”

“Prudence!” It was a shout of abundant but undefined passion. He looked to see if she joked, but read a contradiction on her face. “You hussy! You didn’t bring the Nabob round your little ink-stained thumb! Good God, how Hettie will stare. So you are an engaged woman, and truly rid of the opprobrious title of Spinster.”

“I do not find it opprobrious, nor am I so anxious to relinquish it as you seem to think I should be.”

“Well, you surely never rejected him?”

“I have not accepted his flattering offer.”

“Prudence, you fool! It would be the making of you.”

“Et tu, Brute.”

“I lag Clarence in my sentiments, I collect? But he’s right, you know. It would be no poor thing for you to be set up so richly for life. I can’t credit it yet that it was marriage he had in his mind. Quite sure you understood the nature of the offer?"

"There is no doubt in my mind, and I find it unflattering that you choose to doubt it.”

“You needn’t rip up at me. It is only what anyone would think.”

“How can you think I should have accepted, if he is so ramshackle?”

“Oh, well, if it was marriage he meant all along, that’s different.”

“You called him a jackrabbit!”

“A very rich jackrabbit. I should have known when he treated you so very properly it wasn’t a left-handed marriage he had in mind. What a feather in your cap. Are you holding out for a title then, or why did you refuse?”

“I don’t love him.”

“Oh love, what is that? Everyone prattles on about it, but I don’t think there is any such thing in the whole world. I never met a man yet who was in love for two days running with the same woman, nor any woman who did much better.”

“Strange talk for the Romancer of the Western World.”

“Romance, that is something quite different. Fiction, in fact, of the sort you and I in our different ways deal in. It’s easy to be in love with a paper character. I adore Shilla-have been in love with her for a week-a new record for me. We can make them into our idealized version of a mate, with the dull and annoying bits left out. We have them at our beck and call, and if we choose to let them run amok a little, we know with the stroke of a pen we can bring them to their senses. What has that to do with love?"

“We don’t see eye to eye on the matter. I conceive of love as something quite different.”

“What?”

“Caring for someone else more than you care for yourself.”

“But that’s not love-it’s a maternal instinct or devotion or some such thing-another form of self-love really. Ourchildren are parts of ourselves. I’m talking about mature love between a man and a woman.”

“So am I.”

“Then you’re talking nonsense, and I expect you know it very well, or you wouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl. Never mind, I never did understand women. But I know this, when they talk of love they only want you to take them out to show off to their friends, or to buy them some new jewels or an annuity. They’re after something.”

“If a woman is interested in a man at all, she takes what is offered by him. If those are the terms in which you couch your offers, then you can’t blame a woman for accepting them. For myself, I shouldn’t have thought it had anything to do with love.”

“You’re either a fool or a very wise woman, I don’t know which. In any case, your Seville seems to share my opinion on the matter. It was diamonds he offered, was it not?”

“Yes, and they were not accepted. I didn’t mistake them for love.”

“You can’t know so much of the matter as you let on. You never have loved anyone but that jackanapes of a Springer, and you didn’t love him enough to accept him in the long run. I’ll not be bludgeoned into taking lessons in love from a sp-ahem, fellow writer.”

“It wasn’t intended for a lesson, but an opinion. A solicited opinion, I might add.”