He gripped my hand hard，and braced up，and was all right and lively after that for the dinner—which didn't come off.No；the usual thing happened，the thing that is always happening under the vicious and aggravating English system—the matter of precedence couldn't be settled，and so there was no dinner.Englishmen always eat dinner before they go out to dinner，because they know the risks they are running；but nobody ever warns the stranger，and so he walks placidly into the trap.Of course，nobody was hurt this time，because we had all been to dinner，none of us being novices excepting Hastings，and he having been informed by the minister at the time that he invited him that in deference to the English custom he had not provided any dinner.Everybody took a lady and processioned down to the dining-room because it is usual to go through the motions；but there the dispute began.The Duke of Shoreditch wanted to take precedence，and sit at the head of the table，holding that he outranked a minister who represented merely a nation and not a monarch；but I stood for my rights，and refused to yield.In the gossip column I ranked all dukes not royal，and said so，and claimed precedence of this one.It couldn't be settled，of course，struggle as we might and did，he finally (and injudiciously)trying to play birth and antiquity，and I “seeing”his Conqueror and “raising”him with Adam，whose direct posterity I was，as shown by my name，while he was of a collateral branch，as shown by his，and by his recent Norman origin；so we all processioned back to the drawing-room again and had a perpendicular lunch—plate of sardines and a strawberry，and you group yourself and stand up and eat it.Here the religion of precedence is not so strenuous；the two persons of highest rank chuck up a shilling，the one that wins has first go at his strawberry，and the loser gets the shilling.The next two chuck up，then the next two，and so on.After refreshment，tables were brought，and we all played cribbage，sixpence a game.The English never play any game for amusement.If they can't make something or lose something—they don't care which—they won't play.
We had a lovely time；certainly two of us had，Miss Langham and I.I was so bewitched with her that I couldn't count my hands if they went above a double sequence；and when I struck home I never discovered it，and started up the outside row again，and would have lost the game every time，only the girl did the same，she being in just my condition，you see；and consequently neither of us ever got out，or cared to wonder why we didn't；we only just knew we were happy，and didn't wish to know anything else，and didn't want to be interrupted.And I told her—I did，indeed—told her I loved her；and she—well，she blushed till her hair turned red，but she liked it；she said she did.Oh，there was never such an evening!Every time I pegged I put on a post；every time she pegged she acknowledged receipt of it，counting the hands the same.Why，I couldn't even say “Two for his heels”without adding “My，how sweet you do look!”and she would say，“Fifteen two，fifteen four，fifteen six，and a pair are eight，and eight are sixteen—do you think so？”—peeping out aslant from under her lashes，you know，so sweet and cunning.Oh，it was just too-too!
Well，I was perfectly honest and square with her；told her I hadn't a cent in the world but just the million-pound note she'd heard so much talk about，and it didn't belong to me，and that started her curiosity；and then I talked low，and told her the whole history right from the start，and it nearly killed her laughing.What in the nation she could find to laugh about I couldn't see，but there it was；every half-minute some new detail would fetch her，and I would have to stop as much as a minute and a half to give her a chance to settle down again.Why，she laughed herself lame—she did，indeed；I never saw anything like it.I mean I never saw a painful story—a story of a person's troubles and worries and fears—produce just that kind of effect before.So I loved her all the more，seeing she could be so cheerful when there wasn't anything to be cheerful about；for I might soon need that kind of wife，you know，the way things looked.Of course，I told her we should have to wait a couple of years，till I could catch up on my salary；but she didn't mind that，only she hoped I would be as careful as possible in the matter of expenses，and not let them run the least risk of trenching on our third year's pay.Then she began to get a little worried，and wondered if we were making any mistake，and starting the salary on a higher figure for the first year than I would get.This was good sense，and it made me feel a little less confident than I had been feeling before；but it gave me a good business idea，and I brought it frankly out.
“Portia，dear，would you mind going with me that day，when I confront those old gentlemen？”
She shrank a little，but said:
“N-o；if my being with you would help hearten you.But—would it be quite proper，do you think？”
“No，I don't know that it would—in fact，I'm afraid it wouldn't；but，you see，there's so much dependent upon it that—”
“Then I'll go anyway，proper or improper，”she said，with a beautiful and generous enthusiasm.“Oh，I shall be so happy to think I'm helping!”
“Helping，dear？Why，you'll be doing it all.You're so beautiful and so lovely and so winning，that with you there I can pile our salary up till I break those good old fellows，and they'll never have the heart to struggle.”
Sho!you should have seen the rich blood mount，and her happy eyes shine!
“You wicked flatterer!There isn't a word of truth in what you say，but still I'll go with you.Maybe it will teach you not to expect other people to look with your eyes.”
Were my doubts dissipated？Was my confidence restored？You may judge by this fact:privately I raised my salary to twelve hundred the first year on the spot.But I didn't tell her:I saved it for a surprise.
