"No go," said the boy, quite able to hold his own. "I'm not goin' to marry a Bret Harte girl."
"Oh, do," replied Miss Mulrady, in the purest of English, and placing two small gloved hands together. "I'll be a wife and a mother in one."
"What economy!" smiled Lady Jim. "Are you coming into the 'devil's parlour'?"
"Later. I'm waiting for Mr. Askew."
Leah started. She thought that Askew was safe in Shropshire, making attempts to civilise the fixture. "Harry Askew?"
"That's so," assented Miss Mulrady, relapsing into her Wild West vocabulary, and with a keen look. "He called on Mommo an' me, when he was cruisin' out 'Frisco way. We're negotiatin' a system to break this old bank."
"You evidently wish to be popularised in a song," said Lady Jim, languidly. "How long has Mr. Askew been devoting his energies to such things?" This with an angry reflection that he had not called on her.
"You might reckon it twenty-four hours," said the American, admiring her pointed brown shoe. "He's here for his health."
"I've heard that excuse before, with regard to Monte Carlo."
"Shouldn't wonder. We ticket our sins best sugar. Sir Billy, come along an' buy me candy at the stores."