"Thanks!" He twisted his eyeglass violently, and put his foot on the stair. "Thanks! but trusting to paper is only a degree less foolish than trusting a secret to any but number one. I will wait so long as you like, but I am afraid I must see Mr. Deane."
It was the third repetition! Mrs. Russelthorpe drew herself up. Who was this man that he should say "must" to her "shall not"?
"I imagined that I had made clear to you that you cannot possibly do that," she answered coldly.
"Is that what you said to his daughter?" asked George. It was a declaration of war, a throwing down of the gauntlet. Mr. Sauls did not take his eyes from her face; as he brought out the words, he knew that they were insolent, but he was prepared not to stick at a trifle—for Meg's sake.
He had thought to take his adversary unawares by that bold stroke; but Mrs. Russelthorpe moved not a muscle, and George, much as he disliked her, felt a momentary admiration for her pluck.
"If you are speaking of Mrs. Thorpe," she said, "she has chosen her own lot, and must abide by it."
"Oh, certainly!" said George. For the first time in this curious interview there was a shade of warmth in his tone. Meg's very name slightly changed his attitude.
"If a woman is fool enough to marry beneath her, she chooses a lot that might satisfy her bitterest enemy," he remarked. "I don't pretend to go in for Christian charity and wholesale forgiveness; but Mrs. Thorpe injured herself more than any one else. Can't you hold out a hand to her now?"
"We will not discuss that subject. May I remind you that my time is precious—as I have no doubt yours is?"
"You mean that it is of no use waiting for your permission? You do not intend to give it?"