“I'm afraid I cannot boast of possessing all your philosophy,” said he, touchily.
“So much the worse. You would need it, and even more, too, if all that I have heard be true.”
There was no mistaking this inference, and Beecher only hesitated whether he should accept battle at once, or wait for another broadside.
“Not but,” broke she in, “if you could assure me that the rumors were untrue,—that you have been calumniated, and I misinformed,—if, I say, you were enabled to do this, the tidings would help greatly to sustain me through this season of trouble.”
“You must speak more plainly, Georgina, if I am to understand you.”
“Are you married, Annesley?” said she, abruptly.
“Yes. I hope I am of an age to enter the holy estate without leave from my relations.”
“It is true, then?” said she, with a deep, full voice.
“Perfectly true. And then?” There was an open defiance in this tone of questioning which seemed actually to sting her.
“And then?” repeated she, after him,—“'and then?' You are right to say, 'and then?'—if that means 'What next?'”