‘Why? Are you going?’ cried Kitty, in dismay.
Vandeloup nodded.
‘I think I spoke about this before,’ he said, idly brushing some cigarette ash off his waistcoat.
‘Yes,’ returned Kitty, ‘but I thought you did not mean it.’
‘I never say anything I do not mean,’ answered Vandeloup, with the ready lie on his lips in a moment; ‘and I have got letters from France with money, so I am going to leave the Pactolus.’
‘And me?’ said Kitty, tearfully.
‘That depends upon yourself, Bebe,’ he said rapidly, pressing her burning cheek against his own; ‘your father would never consent to my marriage, and I can’t take you away from Ballarat without suspicions, so—’
‘Yes?’ said Kitty, eagerly, looking at him.
‘You must run away,’ he whispered, with a caressing smile.
‘Alone?’