Marie squeezed the arm she held. “As if there was any question of that. All the same, Uncle Ran is sure to be nasty if you call.”
“He was amiable enough yesterday when we met, and outwardly he has no reason to overstep the bounds of politeness. I intend to call in order to show him that I am quite friendly, and if he objects he can speak out.”
“He’s asleep yet, I expect,” objected Marie anxiously.
“All the better. We shall have a longer time to ourselves, and you can give me a cup of tea.”
“Uncle Ran would assuredly object to that,” said the girl with emphasis. “He is becoming a perfect miser. Every penny he obtains he turns into jewels, Alan, although owing to want of money he can only buy cheap stones.”
“So long as he uses his own money and not yours he can do what he likes, I suppose, Marie. But you have an income and the house, so he has no right to object to your extending afternoon-tea hospitality to me.”
“I never get any of my own money except a few shillings a week for my pocket,” admitted Marie rather mournfully. “You know Uncle Ran was left my sole guardian, and I do not come of age for another year. Then he says he will account to me for my money, which he declares he is saving.”
Remembering Mr. Sorley’s shifty eyes and slack mouth, Fuller had his doubts as to the truth of this statement, and merely grunted. But when Marie went on to say that her uncle was selling portions of the furniture he raised his eyebrows. “He has no right to do that without your consent, my dear.”
“He says that he has, and that there is too much furniture in the place. I understand from him that he is selling the furniture in order to invest the money for me.”
“Hum! It may be so, but I should not be too sure of that. I wish I were your husband now, Marie, and then I could look after your interests.”