"I suppose when we meet again you will be millionaires," Crichton said cheerily. "I see a prospectus is being issued next week of The Blackthorn Development Company. I shall apply for a few shares—just for luck."
"I'm afraid you won't get them," Despard answered. "The Company will be subscribed two or three times over. You go back to Netheravon to-morrow?"
Jim nodded.
"Alone?"
There was a moment's silence. Marjorie caught her breath. There seemed to be a challenge in Despard's voice.
"Yes, alone," Jim replied with a laugh. "Unfortunately, I can't take Marjorie with me—yet. Perhaps in a few months' time, though, we shall fly off together, man and wife."
Despard shrugged his shoulders as he left the room. "Perhaps," he murmured under his breath.
Crichton shook hands with Dale, and the old man held his hand a few moments longer than was necessary.
"It's a brave thing you're doing in keeping the promise you gave Marjorie; but if you insist on making her your wife, you'll break your father's heart, Mr. Crichton."
"I hope not. I hope he'll come to see things my way. But if I had to make a choice, Mr. Dale, I'd rather break his than hers."