"Ask her again, Hugh. You're the only one she's been able to keep in the dark; but then"—his eyes followed his wife, who was still slowly retreating—"but then that's nothing new. She'll let you believe anything—till she gets you. That's always the game with women of the sort. But once you're fast in her clutches—then, my boy, look out!"
I heard Pauline whisper, "Jack, for Heaven's sake, do something!"
Once more Jack's hand was laid on his parent's arm, with his foolish "Say, dad—"
Once more the restraining hand was shaken off. The cutting tones were addressed to Hugh:
"You see what a hurry she's been in to be married, don't you? How many times has she asked you to do it up quick? She's been afraid that you'd slip through her fingers." He turned toward me. "Don't be alarmed, my dear. We shall keep our word. You've worked hard to capture the position, and I shall not deny that you've been clever in your attacks. You deserve what you've won, and you shall have it. But all in good time. Don't rush. The armies in Europe are showing us that you must intrench yourself where you are if you want, in the end, to push forward. You push a little too hard."
Poor Hugh had gone white. He was twisting my wrist as if he would wring it off, though I felt no pain till afterward.
"Tell me!" he whispered. "Tell me! You're—you're not marrying me for—for my money, are you?"
I could have laughed hysterically.
"Hugh, don't be an idiot!" came, scornfully, from Ethel Rossiter.
I could see her get up, cross the room, and sit down on the edge of Mildred's couch, where the two engaged in a whispered conversation. Jim Rossiter, too, got up and tiptoed his sleek, slim person out of the room. Cissie Boscobel followed him. They talked in low tones at the head of the stairs outside. I found voice at last: