“Can’t you guess, you dear blind bat?”
“Not my father?”
“Well, I hope not. You must rouse yourself and interfere; elderly men are so easily made fools of. Is it true that she is going with you to Sydney, or is it just a piece of gossip?”
“Yes, it is quite true.”
“Then you must stop it; you really must, unless you wish to have her as a stepmother. She will be engaged before you are at Gib. I think I can see her in smart board-ship frocks, very pleasant, very helpless; your father, an idle man, waiting on her assiduously, and carrying her wraps and books; you below, hors de combat. Oh, she will not lose her opportunity, and she sticks at nothing.”
“I’m afraid I can’t stop her!”
“I tell you you must. I wish I was going with you instead.”
“Oh, how I wish you were!”
“But I can’t; my plans are cut and dried by Mr. J. I shall write to you often, dear, and expect to see you back in six months, or at least twelve, looking quite yourself; now, promise me.”
Madeline, whose spirits were running down and a reaction setting in, made no answer, save tears.