"You needn't be. Not even Austin could come between you and me, dearest," he said. "He was awfully pleased, and—and all that, but he thought of this property. He is one of those cute, long-headed fellows, you know, darling, who are always looking to the future, and it was he who wanted us to keep it secret."
"He knows that I am so unfit, so unworthy," said Margaret, in a low voice, and with a sudden pang.
Blair's face flushed, and he looked up at her reproachfully.
"Don't ever say that, Madge," he pleaded; "it hurts me."
"Forgive me, Blair," she whispered. "But he did think so, did he not?"
"I don't care what he thought," he said, firmly. "And whatever he thought, he will have only one idea when he sees you, and that is that you are a thousand, a million times too good for me."
"Poor Blair," she murmured.
"And, Margaret, I want you to see him very soon. I want you to feel that he is your friend as well as mine." He paused for a moment, then went on—"Madge, he is down at Leyton now."
"At Leyton now—here?" said Margaret with momentary surprise.