"The infernal scoundrel!" said Dillwyn at last. She was only half through her story then. "Why, his wife isn't three months dead." After that he heard her patiently to the end.
"I have been so frightened, so miserable," said Agatha. Something of the effect of this speech would have been taken away if a mere outsider had been addressed, as now there was not a touch of misery about her anywhere, but Dillwyn understood her, and drawing her hand to his lips, kissed it warmly.
"You shall never be miserable again if I can help it," said he.
"After all, Agatha, I haven't told you about the stroke of luck that has fallen to me to-day. I'm afraid I should hardly have had the pluck to speak to you at all if it hadn't been for that."
"Oh, Jack!" said she reproachfully.
"Well, I wasn't sure how it was. I could see your aunt was against me, and I don't blame her of course, and—-."
"Then I think you ought. Fancy her wanting to marry me to Dr. Darkham!"
"A man like that! Well, that's bad, certainly."
"Yet you say you cannot blame her."
"How could I blame her? Do you imagine that any aunt would like to marry a girl like you to me?"