She threw her arms round his neck, whispering: "Dear Oliver!--dear Oliver!--I just wished you to know--if it is as I think--that you had my blessing." He drew back, a little shrinking and reluctant--yet still flushed, as it were, with the last rays Diana's sun had shed upon him.
"Things mustn't be hurried, mother." "No--no--they sha'n't.

But you know how I have wished to see you happy--how ambitious I have been for you!" "Yes, mother, I know.

You have been always very good to me." He had recovered his composure, and stood holding her hand and smiling at her.
"What a charming creature, Oliver! It is a pity, of course, her father has indoctrinated her with those opinions, but--" "Opinions!" he said, scornfully--"what do they matter!" But he could not discuss Diana.

His blood was still too hot within him.
"Of course--of course!" said Lady Lucy, soothingly.

"She is so young--she will develop.