"But you did."
"Oh, Mr Whittlestaff! But I will not attempt to deceive you. If you left it to him, he would know what to say,—immediately."
"No doubt! No doubt!"
"When he had come here all the way from South Africa on purpose to see me, as he said, of course he would know. Why should there be any pretence on my part?"
"Why, indeed?"
"But I have not answered him;—not as yet."
"There need be no delay."
"I would not do it till you had come. I may have known what he would say to me, but I may be much in doubt what I should say to him."
"You may say what you like." He answered her crossly, and she heard the tone. But he was aware of it also, and felt that he was disgracing himself. There was none of the half-hour of joy which he had promised himself. He had struggled so hard to give her everything, and he might, at any rate, have perfected his gift with good humour. "You know you have my full permission," he said, with a smile. But he was aware that this smile was not pleasant,—was not such a smile as would make her happy. But it did not signify. When he was gone away, utterly abolished, then she would be happy.
"I do not know that I want your permission."