“Is the man waiting for an answer?” she asked, when she had read it.
“Yes, your ladyship.” She left her brother and Gwen alone.
“George is marrying the heiress,” Gwen began.
“So he wrote me,” replied Frothingham sullenly.
“Evelyn says you must go and do likewise.”
He scowled. “But I’d rather stay here and marry you.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Gwen, with a shrug of her athletic young shoulders. “You’ve got nothing. I’ve got nothing. So—you must do your duty.”
“Duty go hang!” said Frothingham fretfully. “Sometimes, do you know, Gwen, I come jolly near envying those beggars that live in cottages, and keep shops, and all that.”
“Now, you’re slopping, Arthur. You know you don’t envy them; no more do I.”
“Did Eve tell you old Bagley was down?”