"But she is not your aunt really," said he.
"No; but she—Jack, she has been very good to me. But for her" —she paused, and her charming face grew sad—"I might have starved. I cannot forget that."
"I shall not forget it either," said Dillwyn. "And if she ever wants a friend, I'm there. But for all that, Agatha, I've got to think of you too. You are mine now, you know; and one should think first of those that belong to him. And, after all, I expect Mrs. Greatorex is open to reason. Once she knows you hate Darkham, and that you love me—and you do, darling, don't you?"
"Jack! as if you weren't sure—-"
"Well, I am now; and I'll come up to-morrow and tell your aunt all about it."
"Oh, don't!" cried Agatha. "It will be no use—none at all. She —she is bent on this marriage with Dr. Darkham. Don't say a word for awhile."
"And let you be tortured meanwhile? Not likely!" said Dillwyn. "I shall certainly speak to her to-morrow. We must make the way clear at once. I shall come up at four. I can't come earlier because of General Montgomery; but at four."
"You won't see her," said Agatha, with a touch of triumph. "She is going over to the Monteiths' after luncheon to spend a long and happy day with them, and won't be back until ten. I'm glad, do you know. I'm afraid of your speaking to her. I dread it. She will be so annoyed."
"Better get it over," said he. "But even if I can't see Mrs. Greatorex to-morrow, I must see you. She will be away, you say. I can come and see you for all that, can't I?"
"Yes, come at seven. I am afraid I cannot ask you in, however. She would be so angry. But if you will come to the garden—-" She coloured painfully and looked distressed. "I can't even give you coffee.... I can do nothing for you," said she, the tears rising in her eyes.