"Forgive me," Arnold was saying, with some earnestness, "if this
course seems to you rather irregular."
"Not at all! Not at all! But I can only assure you of my honest
inability to answer the question. Try, my dear fellow! _Solvitur
quaerendo_!"
Jacks' behaviour did, in fact, appear to the Doctor a little odd.
That the young man should hint at his desire to ask Miss Derwent to
marry him, or perhaps ask the parental approval of such a step, was
natural enough; the event had been looming since the beginning of
the voyage home. But to go beyond this, to ask the girl's father
whether he thought success likely, whether he could hold out hopes,
was scarcely permissible. It seemed a curious failure of tact in
such a man as Arnold Jacks.
The fact was that Arnold for the first time in his life, had turned
coward. Having drifted into a situation which he had always regarded
as undesirable, and had felt strong enough to avoid, he lost his
head, and clutched rather wildly at the first support within reach.
That Irene Derwent should become his wife was not a vital matter; he
could contemplate quite coolly the possibility of marrying some one
else, or, if it came to that, of not marrying anyone at all. What
shook his nerves was the question whether Irene would be sure to
accept him.
Six months ago, he had no doubt of it. He viewed Miss Derwent with
an eye accustomed to scrutinise, to calculate (in things Imperial
and other), and it amused him to reflect that she might be numbered
among, say, half a dozen eligible women who would think it an honour
to marry him.
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