"Madam, once your marriage is established, the money becomes rightfully and legally yours, unless——"
With that look he was frowning at this handsome girl who took law and order with such a high hand. But behind the frown was a desire, which he restrained, to hug her.
Frowning still he looked from Cassy to the door and there at a boy, who was poking through it a nose on which freckles were strewn thick as bran.
"Mr. Rymple, sir, says he has an appointment."
The old ruffian, rising, turned to Cassy. "One moment, if you please."
The door, caught in a draught, slammed after him, though less violently than other doors that were slamming still. Would they never stop? Cassy wondered. Would they slam forever? Were there no rooms in life where she might enter and find the silence that is peace? Surely, some time, somewhere that silence might be hers.
She turned. Jones, looking extremely disagreeable, was walking in.
Cassy, closing her ears to those doors, exclaimed at him. "Here's a pretty how d'ye do. Mr. Dunwoodie says I am Mrs. Paliser."
"That afternoon, when you sent your love to my cat, I could have told you that. In fact I did."
From Jones' air and manner you would have said that he was willing and able to bite a ten-penny nail.