"Do you think that Alice will refuse to lend it me?" said he, looking into her face.
"I am sure that she would not, but I think that you ought not to take it from her. There seems to me to be something sacred about property that belongs to the girl you are going to marry."
"If there is anything on earth I hate," said George, walking about the room, "it is romance. If you keep it for reading in your bedroom, it's all very well for those who like it, but when it comes to be mixed up with one's business it plays the devil. If you would only sift what you have said, you would see what nonsense it is. Alice and I are to be man and wife. All our interests, and all our money, and our station in life, whatever it may be, are to be joint property. And yet she is the last person in the world to whom I ought to go for money to improve her prospects as well as my own. That's what you call delicacy. I call it infernal nonsense."
"I tell you what I'll do, George. I'll ask Aunt Greenow to lend you the money,—or to lend it to me."
"I don't believe she'd give me a shilling. Moreover, I want it quite immediately, and the time taken up in letter-writing and negotiations would be fatal to me. If you won't apply to Alice, I must. I want you to tell me whether you will oblige me in this matter."
Kate was still hesitating as to her answer, when there came a knock at the door, and a little crumpled note was brought up to her. A boy had just come with it across the fell from Vavasor Hall, and Kate, as soon as she saw her name on the outside, knew that it was from her grandfather. It was as follows:—
"If George wishes to come to the Hall, let him come. If he chooses to tell me that he regrets his conduct to me, I will see him."
"What is it?" said George. Then Kate put the note into her brother's hand.
"I'll do nothing of the kind," he said. "What good should I get by going to the old man's house?"
"Every good," said Kate. "If you don't go now you never can do so."