"I am afraid we are at cross purposes," said Colonel Crayfield carefully. From his own standpoint he felt that the marriage could hardly be termed "suitable," though the gain for the girl was undeniable.
"Then will you kindly explain?" demanded Mrs. Carrington.
"Certainly. It is my intention to marry your granddaughter."
Grandmamma stared at him. Then she grabbed her stick and struck it sharply on the ground. "My good man, are you in your senses?" she cried. "Do you realise that Stella is not only a child, but that she has bad blood in her veins? That such an unnatural union could only result in disaster? Now, if it had been Ellen, her aunt——"
The old lady's natural reserve had been blown, as by a volcano, sky high.
So that was the idea! Colonel Crayfield only just saved himself from laughing aloud.
"But you see," he said lightly, "it is not Miss Ellen—fortunately for me, since I fear she would hardly welcome me as a suitor."
Mrs. Carrington ignored this playful attitude. "It is a preposterous idea! You are not a young man. Have you considered the cost and the risk?" Her voice was severe.
"Why," he argued judicially, "should there be any 'risk,' as you call it? After all, I am not such a Methuselah, and surely you can trust me to safeguard my wife's honour and happiness as well as my own?"
"In the present, no doubt. But what about the end of it all? In ten, even twenty years' time, Stella will still be a young woman, while you——" Her pause was cruelly pointed.