“Well, may I be damned!” cried Vickers, striking the mantelpiece with his hand. “This is too much. It was just conceivable that I might be such an idiot as to stay here and help you out, even on your own absurd terms; but to stay on while you go off and marry another fellow——”
“It is your staying that makes it possible for me to be married,” put in Nellie gently.
“Then regard it as impossible: for I won’t stay.”
“If you attempt to go, Bob, I shall have you arrested.” Her tone might have made him pause, if he had not been so full of his own wrongs.
“What folly this all is!” he cried angrily. “I make you a most magnificently generous offer, and you have not even the sense to accept it. I, a total stranger, offer to take up—but it serves me right for trying to talk business to a woman. Who is this friend whose clerk I am to be? Who’s your lawyer? Is there a man anywhere in this situation to whom I can talk a little common-sense?”
“Mr. Overton is my uncle’s lawyer, but I should not advise you to see him, Bob. I have heard him express his opinion. He has always thought it would have been wiser to send you to the penitentiary at once. It is Mr. Emmons who is willing to give you a position. You had better see him.”
“All right, I’ll go to see him, and if I don’t like the way he talks, I shan’t come back. In that case, good-by. I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. Remember me to Plimpton.”
Nellie had again bent her head over the paper, and did not concern herself greatly over these adieux.
“We dine at eight, Bob,” she said.
“Oh, deuce take you!” answered Vickers, and almost shook his fist at her as he left the room.