"Unfortunately," said the girl lightly, "I am not eligible for such a post. Knights are not for me. You see, Philip," she continued hurriedly, avoiding his eyes, "times have changed. Knights are too scarce and Ladies are too numerous. There are about a million women in this country alone who will have to get along without a knight for the whole of their lives."
"But not you," said Philip eagerly. "Any man would be proud--"
"Thank you," said Peggy, "for the compliment. But perhaps I prefer to be one of that million. There are so many things that a woman can do now which were impossible in the days of chivalry, that she can live her own life quite happily and contentedly, knight or no."
"It's all wrong, all wrong!" cried Philip passionately. "It's all against every law of God and man! I won't believe it!"
"Wrong or right," pursued Peggy quietly, "it is a fact that many a woman nowadays would find a knight rather--what shall we say?--an encumbrance. For instance, I--"
"If ever I _do_ encounter a man who wants to be my cavalier--which is of course extremely unlikely--"
"You ought to say, 'No, no!' or 'Impossible!'" she pointed out severely.
Philip summoned up the ghost of a smile, and Peggy proceeded steadily:
"If ever I do meet a would-be Knight, I shall tell him that I am greatly obliged, but that I have other things to occupy me, and that I prefer to remain independent. So it is no use, my romantic friend," she concluded with a whimsical smile, "for you to select me as a suitable helpmeet for one of your imaginary knights. Now we really must get along: the other two will be wondering what has become of us."
She turned from the parapet to resume her walk. But Philip looked her straight in the face.
For a moment they regarded one another unflinchingly, these two reserved and reticent people. Then Peggy's eyes fell.
"Yes," she said in a subdued voice, "that is final. So don't go hunting up a knight for me, Philip."
When Peggy returned home after the tea-party she found her parent sitting in front of a dead fire, wearing his overcoat and a face of resigned suffering.
"Hallo, Dad!" she remarked cheerfully. "Why have you let the fire go out?"
"It is of no consequence," replied Montagu Falconer. "I am fairly warm in this overcoat." He coughed and shivered. "Are we having any dinner to-night?"