Part 26 (2/2)

”They? Who? It was only Mrs. Morrison the other day, at tea-time, said--that she thought----”

”Mrs. Morrison? That hateful woman discussing me? Mother, how could you let her? What did she say?”

”Why, only--I wish you wouldn't look so cross, dear. It was nothing really--only that Mr. Trojan obviously cared a good deal--and it would be so nice if----”

”How dare she?” Mary cried again. ”And you think it too, mother--that I would go on my knees to him to take us out of our trouble--that I would sweep his floors if he would help the family! Oh! It's hateful!

Hateful!”

She flung herself into a chair by the window and burst into tears.

Mrs. Bethel stared at her in amazement. ”Well, upon my word, my dear, one never knows how to take you! Why, it wasn't as if she'd said anything, only that it would be rather nice.” She paused in utter bewilderment and seemed herself a little inclined to cry.

At this moment the door opened--Mary sprang up. ”Who is it?” she asked.

”Mr. Henry Trojan, miss, would like to come up if it wouldn't----”

”No. Tell him, Jane, that----”

But he had followed the servant and appeared in the doorway smiling.

”I knew you wouldn't mind my coming unconventionally like this,” he said; ”it's a terrible hour in the morning--but I felt sure that I would catch you.”

He had seen at once that there was something wrong, and he stopped confusedly in the doorway.

But Mrs. Bethel came forward, smiling nervously.

”Oh, please, Mr. Trojan, do come in. We always love to see you--you know we do--you're one of our real friends--one of our best--and it's only too good of you to spare time to come round and see us. But I am busy--it's quite true--one is, you know, in the morning; but I don't think that Mary has anything very important immediately. I think she might stop and talk to you,” and in a confusion of t.i.ttered apologies she vanished away.

But he stood in the doorway, waiting for Mary to speak. She sat with her head turned to the window and struggled to regain her self-command; they had been talked about in the town. She could imagine how it had gone. ”Oh! the Bethel girl! Yes, after the Trojan money and doing it cleverly too; she'll hook him all right--he's just the kind of man.”

Oh! the hatefulness of it!

”What's up?” He came forward a little, twisting his hat in his hands.

”Nothing!” She turned round and tried to smile. Indeed she almost laughed, for he looked so ridiculous standing there--like a great schoolboy before the headmaster, his hat turning in his hands; or rather, like a collie plunging out of the water and ready to shake himself on all and sundry. As she looked at him she knew that she loved him and that she could never marry him because Pendragon thought that she had hooked him for his money.

”Yes--there is something. What is it?” He had come forward and taken her hands.

But she drew them away slowly and sat down on the sofa. ”I'm tired,”

she said a little defiantly, ”that's all--you know if you will come and call at such dreadfully unconventional hours you mustn't expect to find people with all the paint on. I never put mine on till lunch----”

”No--it's no good,” he answered gravely. ”You're worried, and it's wrong of you not to tell me. You are breaking your promise----”

”I made no promise,” she said quickly.

”You did--that day on the moor. We were to tell each other always if anything went wrong. It was a bargain.”

”Well, nothing's wrong. I'm tired--bothered a bit--the old thing--there's more to be bought than we're able to pay for.”

”I've come with a proposition,” he answered gravely. ”Just a suggestion, which I don't suppose you'll consider--but you might--it is that you should marry me.”

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