“You can’t do anything.”
“I can refuse to marry her, can’t I?”
“Oh—you could. But plenty of people would say that you had induced her to get the divorce, and then had changed your mind. She’ll count on that, and make the most of it, you may be sure. She won’t have a penny when she’s divorced, and she’ll go about telling everybody that you have ruined her. That won’t be pleasant, will it?”
“No—hardly. I had thought of it.”
“You see—you can’t do anything without injuring yourself. I can settle the whole affair in half an hour. By return of post you’ll get a letter from her telling you that she has abandoned all idea of proceedings against Crosby.”
“I’ll bet you she doesn’t,” said Brook.
“Anything you like. It’s perfectly simple. I’ll just make a will, leaving you nothing at all, if you marry her, and I’ll send her a copy to-day. You’ll get the answer fast enough. ”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Brook, in surprise. Then he thoughtfully relighted his pipe and threw the match out of the window. “I say, Governor,” he added after a pause, “do you think that’s quite—well, quite fair and square, you know?”
“What on earth do you mean?” cried Sir Adam. “Do you mean to tell me that I haven’t a perfect right to leave my money as I please? And that the first adventuress who takes a fancy to it has a right to force you into a disgraceful marriage, and that it would be dishonourable of me to prevent it if I could? You’re mad, boy! Don’t talk such nonsense to me!”
“I suppose I’m an idiot,” said Brook. “Things about money so easily get a queer look, you know. It’s not like other things, is it?”