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Sir Roland slid one hand into his pocket and drew out a snuff-box.
‘But how romantic!’ he remarked. ‘Do, pray, present me!’
Mr Morley took a step forward.
‘You must have guessed, sir, that my name is Morley. Miss Paradise has been promised to me these dozen years.’
Sir Roland bowed and offered his snuff-box.
‘I felicitate you,’ he said. ‘But what part do I play in this charming – er – idyll?’
‘None!’ replied Miss Paradise.
Sir Roland, his snuff having been waved aside by Mr Morley, took a pinch and held it to one nostril. Then he fobbed his box with an expert flick of the finger and put it away again.
‘I hesitate to contradict you, Miss Paradise,’ he said, ‘but I cannot allow myself to be thrust into the role of a mere onlooker.’
Miss Paradise replied, not quite so belligerently:
‘I dare say you think you have a right to interfere, but you need not think that I will go back with you, for I won’t!’
Mr Morley, feeling himself elbowed out of the discussion, said with some asperity:
‘I wish you would leave this to me, Bab! Pray, do be quiet a moment!’
‘Why should I be quiet?’ demanded Miss Paradise. ‘It is quite my own affair!’
‘You always think you can manage everything,’ said Mr Morley. ‘But this is between men!’
‘What nonsense!’ said Miss Paradise scornfully. ‘Pray whom does he want to marry, you or me?’
‘Lord, Bab, if you’re going to talk like a fool I shall be sorry I ever said I’d elope with you!’
‘Well, I’m sorry now!’ said Miss Paradise instantly.
Mr Morley cast her a withering glance and turned once more to Sir Roland.
‘Sir, no doubt you are armed with Sir John Paradise’s authority, but –’
‘Let me set your mind at rest at once,’ interposed Sir Roland. ‘I am here quite on my own authority.’
‘Well, sir! Well, in that case –’
Miss Paradise entered into the conversation again.
‘You can’t pretend that you cared as much as that!’ she said impetuously. ‘You could not have wanted to marry me so very much when you had never so much as set eyes on me!’
‘Of course not,’ agreed Sir Roland. ‘Until I set eyes on you I had not the least desire to marry you.’
‘Then why did you write that odious letter to Papa?’ asked Miss Paradise reasonably.
‘I never write odious letters,’ replied Sir Roland calmly.
‘I dare say you may think it was very civil and obliging of you,’ said Miss Paradise; ‘but for my part I have a very poor notion of a man allowing his marriage to be arranged for him, and when it comes to writing that you are willing to fulfil your – your obligations –’
A muscle quivered at the corner of Sir Roland’s mouth.
‘Did I write that?’ he asked.
