“Why don’t I ask her? Because I will not offer her a smirched name! Because I love her so much that⁠—” He broke off with a shaky, furious laugh. “How can you ask me such a question? I am a desirable parti, hein? Nom d’un nom ! For what do you take me?”

O’Hara looked up, calmly studying the wrathful countenance.

“Chivalrous young fool,” he drawled.

Again the short, angry laugh.

“It is so likely that I should ask her to marry me, is it not? ‘Mademoiselle, you see in me an improvident fool: I began life by cheating at cards, and since then⁠—’ Oh, I shall believe it myself ere long! I seem to have told it to so many people. And I lay myself open to the impertinences of⁠—” he checked himself, thinking of the interview downstairs with Mr. Beauleigh.