"She is going to marry me," I insisted, at white heat.
"Nothing of the sort," said the little man obstinately; "now that you have learned the truth, I am not going to be under your thumb. I shall give up any idea of marrying Lady Mabel. I shall bring Gertrude to London and I shall marry her to Lord Cannington."
"You'll do nothing of the sort."
"Who will stop me?"
"There is no stoppage in the matter of the kind you mean. Whether I or your own self tell Lady Mabel the facts of the case matters very little. But when the truth becomes known, she will not marry you, and Cannington, who is my best friend, will not marry Gertrude. He would not even admire her, unless I gave him permission, since he knows that she is my promised wife."
"Who told him that?" asked Monk wrathfully.
"I did. It is true. Gertrude is going to marry me, and you can do your best to prevent it. And another thing, Mr. Monk, or Marr, or whatever you choose to call yourself, you had better confess the truth at once. Weston is going to set up his airship factory at Burwain, and Lady Mabel is bound to go down and see him. You will understand the necessity to retreat gracefully from your position before you are kicked out. As to Striver----"
"What about Striver?" sneered the little villain, who was desperately pale by this time, for my words had gone home. "He won't give in. You have got the better of me, but Striver will get the better of you."
I snapped my fingers, as Mr. Monk had done himself a few minutes previously. "That for Mr. Striver!" I said contemptuously. "Do you think I care for a country bumpkin such as he is. Gertrude has promised to be my wife, so the rest matters little."
Monk nursed his chin on his hand, and looked remarkably sullen. After a couple of minutes' silence he looked up. "See here, I shall make a bargain with you. If I withdraw from Lady Mabel's society and court her no more, will you hold your tongue?"