“One of the servants—a girl called Annie—used to post Caroline’s letters for her, and I used to write to her in care of Annie’s mother. We never had a chance to meet again, after that trip. I wanted to come to the house and see her people, but she said it wasn’t any use; and from what I saw of them on the Ormond I dare say she was right. I wouldn’t have suited them. I haven’t any money, you know—nothing but my pay; but it was enough for us to live on. Other fellows manage!”
He was silent for a moment.
“After all,” he said, “I’m not a beggar. I can hold my own pretty well in the world, and I could look after a wife.”
“I know it!” cried Lexy, with vehemence. She felt curiously touched by his words, and quite indignant against the Enderbys and any one else who did not appreciate him.
“I asked Caroline to marry me,” he went on. “I told her I couldn’t give her much, but we could have had a jolly sort of life. Look here! Are you crying?”
“A little bit,” Lexy admitted; “but don’t pay any attention to it. Go on!”
“That’s about all there is. She said she would meet me here in Wyngate, because that’s the nearest station of the main line to some little place where a nurse or a governess of hers lived.”
“Miss Craigie!”
“Never heard the name. Anyhow, she wanted to go there after we got married, and—I wish you wouldn’t look like that!”
“But I’m so awfully sorry for you!”