"Hugh, here's your ticket and your letter of credit. I asked Spellman to see to them when he was in New York."
The young man barely turned his head. "Thank you, father; but I don't want them. I can't go over—because I'm going to marry Miss Adare."
As it was no time for the chorus of an opera to intervene, all waited for what would happen next. Old Mrs. Billing, turning her lorgnette on the rebellious boy, saw nothing but the back of his head. The father's hand wavered for a minute over the son's shoulder and let the envelope fall. Hugh continued to play with the tassel.
For once Howard Brokenshire was disconcerted. Having stepped back a pace or two, he said in his quiet voice, "What did you say, Hugh?"
The answer was quite distinct. "I said I was going to marry Miss Adare."
"Who's that?"
"You know perfectly well, father. She's Ethel's nursery governess. You've been to see her, and she's told you she's going to marry me."
"Oh, but I thought that was over and done with."
"No, you didn't, father. Please don't try to come that. I told you nearly a fortnight ago that I was perfectly serious—and I am."
"Oh, are you? Well, so am I. The Goldboroughs are expecting you for the twelfth—"