"What about Marr?"
She wilfully chose to ignore my hint. "He can remain as a second string to my bow, Cyrus. After all I must marry money. Aunt Lucy"--this was Lady Denham, the late earl's sister--"is always grumbling about my dresses. And--and--and--oh, well, then, never mind, I must be getting back to town." She looked at her bracelet watch. "There's a theatre party and supper at the Ritz to-night, so I haven't much time.
"And the situation?" asked Cannington, helping her on with her cloak.
"I'll temporise and give Dickey a chance."
"Which means that Marr will have none," I said gravely, "that's not fair."
Mabel shrugged her shoulders, and made the truly feminine answer. "You're a man and don't understand. Oh," she stopped at the door suddenly, "by the way, Aunt Lucy told me that your name was in the papers, Cyrus, about some murder. I've just thought about it. Aren't you accused of sticking pins into some one? Tell me all about it on the way to the station; it will amuse me, you know."
This refreshing candour made me laugh right out, as we descended the stairs. "I am glad that you have even an afterthought of my amusing position," said I, very drily.
She had the grace to colour. "Oh, I didn't quite mean that, Cyrus; but after all, I can't think of everything at once."
"Cannington did that, Mabel. He has been a brick, and but for his assistance I should never have pulled through."
"What rot," muttered the boy, but he was secretly pleased.