"What's that--I want fifty. And after all, it's my own money. When we come of age in two years we each have two thousand a year. I don't see why Uncle Henry should grudge me cash in the way he does. If you don't want to spend it, I do. And what's more," cried Ferdy, working himself into a rage, "I'm going to."
"You shan't spend Dr. Jerce's money," said Clarice, and her mouth shut firmly, while her eyes glittered like steel.
"How can you stop me from getting it?" scoffed Fred, uneasily. "I can ask him to refuse you more. Dr. Jerce will do anything for me."
Ferdy scowled. "I know that," he said, moodily.
"He hinted that he was in love with you. If you were only a decent sort, Clarry, you would marry him and help me. He's got heaps of tin, and you'd be Lady Jerce some day, you know."
"Oh!" said Clarice, and her voice was as hard as her eyes, "did Dr. Jerce ask you to speak to me?"
"No! no, on my honour he didn't; but he hinted that he'd like you to be his wife. I never said anything."
"Not even that I am engaged to Anthony Ackworth."
Ferdy looked up in genuine surprise. "Oh, by Jove, you ain't!"
"Yes, I am. He asked me to become his wife only six days ago. I consented, and we are engaged. Uncle Henry knows, and I intended to tell you later. I thought you might have guessed. Apparently you did not, being so wrapped up in yourself. I'm glad of that, as I want to tell Dr. Jerce myself. You would only bungle the matter."