He consented readily, without making any movement to go. When I descended into our little dining-room, about half-an-hour afterwards, Marian was not there, though she came in almost directly.
"That fellow Holdern not gone yet?" I asked, surprised.
"N—no, Hugh, he's not gone yet," Marian answered, a little consciously. "Now, I do hope that partridge isn't done up to nothing. And how's the bread sauce? Rather thick, isn't it?"
I couldn't quite make Marian out. She seemed almost nervous, and after she had waited upon me, and poured out a glass of the claret which Sir Francis had insisted upon sending down from the house, she stood by my side with her arm round my neck, and looking uncommonly pretty.
"Hadn't you better go in and talk with that fellow Holdern, if he won't go?" I asked; "won't do to leave him in there all by himself."
"Oh, he won't hurt," she answered, stroking my hair caressingly; "he's been here ever since afternoon tea."
"The deuce he has!" I exclaimed, setting down my glass, and looking up at her surprised. "What does he want? A subscription?"
"N—no. I don't think so, Hughie."
Something of the truth commenced to dawn upon me, and, sitting back in my chair, I caught Marian by the arms, and looked into her face.
"Marian, you don't mean to say that the fellow's been making love to you!"