“I am going to take her away with me,” he declared sullenly, “as soon as I can get my luggage on this cab.”
“Letty,” Macheson said, “a few hours ago Miss Thorpe-Hatton offered Stephen Hurd a dowry for you of a thousand pounds, if he would promise to bring you back as his wife. He refused. He has not the slightest intention of making you his wife. I am sorry to have to speak so plainly, but you see we haven’t much time for beating about the bush, have we? I want you to come with me to Berkeley Square. Mrs. Brown will look after you.”
She turned towards the young man piteously.
“Stephen,” she said, “tell Mr. Macheson that he is mistaken. We are going to be married, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” he answered. “At least I always meant to marry you. What I shall do if every one starts bullying me I’m sure I don’t know. Cut the whole lot of you, I think, and be off to the Colonies.”
“You don’t mean that, Stephen,” she begged.
He pointed to the cab laden now with his luggage.
“Will you get in or won’t you, Letty?” he asked.
She shrank back.
“Stephen,” she said, “I thought that you were going to bring mother up with you.”