She was blushing all over her delicate little face, and she held up her hands as though to hide it from me.
"I—I'm afraid he has, Hughie, and—and——"
"And what?"
"And I've been letting him."
"Oh, indeed!" I exclaimed, feebly.
It wasn't a very impressive thing to say, but I was bewildered.
Suddenly she threw herself into my arms and hid her face on my shoulder.
"Oh, Hugh, you won't be angry, will you? say that you won't! He is so nice, and I'm so happy."
I don't know how most men would have felt in my position, but I must confess that my first impulse was to go and punch Mr. Holdern's head. But when I began to think the matter over a little it occurred to me that this was scarcely the proper course to pursue—at any rate, it was not the usual one. The more I thought of it the more natural it seemed to me. I remembered now how often I had found Mr. Holdern sitting at afternoon tea with Marian when I had come home about that time, and what an interest she had been taking in parish matters lately. As far as the man himself was concerned there was nothing against him; in fact, I rather liked him. But to give him—a stranger—Marian, my little sister, who had only just begun to keep house for me, the idea was certainly not a pleasant one, and yet if she wished it, how could I refuse her?
"You're too young, you know, for anything of this sort, Marian," I began, with an attempt at severity, which I'm sure she saw through.