The powdered mortar from under the stone at which he wrenched, rattled on the pavement to confirm his words.

“ Mr. Headstone⁠—”

“Stop! I implore you, before you answer me, to walk round this place once more. It will give you a minute’s time to think, and me a minute’s time to get some fortitude together.”

Again she yielded to the entreaty, and again they came back to the same place, and again he worked at the stone.

“Is it,” he said, with his attention apparently engrossed by it, “yes, or no?”

“ Mr. Headstone, I thank you sincerely, I thank you gratefully, and hope you may find a worthy wife before long and be very happy. But it is no.”