"I do," answered Mrs. Krill, who saw through his design, "but apparently that subject is as distasteful as a discussion about Mr. Hay."
"Both subjects are rather personal, I admit, Mrs. Krill. However, if you have anything to tell me, which you would like Miss Norman to hear, I am willing to listen."
"Ah! Now you are more reasonable," she answered in a pleased tone. "It is simply this, Mr. Beecot: I am very sorry for the girl. Through no fault of her own, she is placed in a difficult position. I cannot give her a name, since her father sinned against her as he sinned in another way against me, but I can—through my daughter, who is guided by me—give her an income. It does not seem right that I should have all this money—"
"That your daughter should have all this money," interpolated Beecot.
"My daughter and I are one," replied Mrs. Krill, calmly; "when I speak for myself, I speak for her. But, as I say, it doesn't seem right we should be in affluence and Miss Norman in poverty. So I propose to allow her five hundred a year—on conditions. Will she accept, do you think, Mr. Beecot?"
"I should think her acceptance would depend upon the conditions."
"They are very simple," said Mrs. Krill in her deep tones, and looking very straightly at Paul. "She is to marry you and go to America."
Beecot's face did not change, since her hard eyes were on it. But he was puzzled under his mask of indifference. Why did this woman want Sylvia to marry him, and go into exile? He temporized. "With regard to your wish that Miss Norman should marry me," said he, quietly, "it is of course very good of you to interest yourself in the matter. I fail to understand your reason, however."
"Yet the reason is patent," rejoined Mrs. Krill, just as quietly and quite as watchful as before. "Sylvia Norman is a young girl without much character——"
"In that I disagree with you."