"That you are not, Ferdy. Anthony always speaks the truth."
"So do I. You have no right to say otherwise."
"Ferdy, all your life you have told half-truths, and those are much worse than right-down lies."
"Oh, hang it, that's too bad. I tell you what it is, Clarry. If you have such a bad opinion of me, I am not fit for your society. Give me my income, and let me go out of your life."
"I'll do nothing of the sort," said Clarice, sternly. "You are not fit to look after your own life. If I gave you the two thousand a year--and remember I cannot do that until the two years are past--you would simply go headlong to ruin. No, Ferdy, you must marry Prudence, and she will look after you."
"How impossible you are, Clarry," cried Ferdy, greatly exasperated. "I tell you that I should like to marry Prudence, but she won't allow me to. Both herself and her father are against my becoming her husband. You can ask them, if you doubt me."
"Oh, I believe what you say," remarked Clarice, readily.
"Then what am I to do?"
"Leave it to time to right things. I dare say Mr. Clarke will change his mind again."
"He may not for years, even if he changes it at all," grumbled Ferdy, "and I can't wait on his pleasure for ever."