"You know the sort of liking I mean. And you know that you don't like 'a great many people' as you like Fulvia."
"Perhaps not."
"Then what on earth keeps you back? It's your father's wish—it's my wish—and you care for her! What more do you want, eh? That Fulvia should 'like' you, I suppose! No fear about her! Daisy says—"
This was too much, and Nigel started up.
"Come, come; don't be excited. Lover-like, but unnecessary," laughed Mr. Carden-Cox. "I'll not betray confidences. Can't you see for yourself? Sit down."
Nigel remained standing.
"When I speak of undertaking responsibility for Fulvia, I mean it simply as her brother. Nothing else is possible."
"For you, or for her? Which? Ha, ha! Well, so be it just now. I'll leave the matter in your hands, for—let us say, for a few weeks. Concession enough, that! Why, bless me, if Browning doesn't hand over the money to the girl this week, he's defrauding her—nothing short of defrauding her. And if he can't bear to have the subject mentioned, how is anything to be arranged, eh? Talk of health! It is a matter of conscience, not of health. Well, well, sit down, my dear fellow, and I'll not say anything more about it just now."
Nigel obeyed.
And Mr. Carden-Cox, to escape from the engrossing subject of Fulvia's money, turned to the scarcely less engrossing subject of "the four N.B.'s."