“Partly right. I am going as much on your nephew’s account as my own.”
“And what is he going for?”
“That I cannot tell you, Mrs. Dengelton,” replied Crispin mendaciously, “you must ask him that yourself. But as to this marriage”—
“I cannot give you an answer now—really I cannot.”
“Will you give me an answer when I return from the East?”
“When will you return?”
“In three months.”
“Yes, I will give you an answer then,” said Mrs. Dengelton glibly, having quite determined to throw Crispin over, should she meet with a more desirable match for her daughter. Crispin guessed this double dealing, and at once met the feminine plot by a masculine counterplot.
“Mrs. Dengelton,” he said solemnly, “I love your daughter, and she loves me. When I return in three months from the East, I will satisfy you on all points you desire to know. If those questions you ask are answered to your complete satisfaction, will you agree to our marriage?”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Dengelton, all the volubility frightened out of her, “I will.”