"A quiet wedding," raged Lady Sophia, "and with such a notorious girl as the bride. Why, all the——"
"Aunt Sophia," interrupted Prelice, growing restive under these insults, "permit me to remind you that Miss Chent is to be my wife, and that I am quite capable of managing my own affairs."
Lady Sophia rose, and swept to the door. "I'm sorry for you. I am truly sorry for you," said she with scorn, and throwing back her head.
"Thank you," replied her nephew meekly, and politely holding open the door; "the same to you, and many of them."
"Oh, Prelice, how I should love to box your ears!" And unable to say anything worse, Lady Sophia disappeared in a royal rage. Prelice did not feel very amiable himself for having been baited unnecessarily, and closed the door with a bang, which said volumes. Then he returned to the disordered dinner-table, poured himself out a glass of port, caught his uncle's twinkling eyes, and laughed in spite of his irritation. Haken nodded approvingly.
"That's better than banging the door," he said, stretching his legs in a genial fashion. "Have a cigar?"
Prelice accepted one of the best, and lighted up, while his host followed his example. When the blue smoke was curling round the old head and the young, and the glasses were full, they dismissed the trouble of Lady Sophia by common consent. Haken looked interrogatively at the young man. "Well," he demanded quietly, "and what have you to say to me? If I know anything of young men, you wish to borrow money." And ended with a chuckle at his joke, knowing the wealth of his nephew.
"And if I know anything of old men," said Prelice coolly, "I should advise them to borrow from their relatives instead of from strangers."
Haken was somewhat startled by this speech, which was as rude a one as Prelice could well have made. But he felt irritable, and wished to smash, rather than break the ice. "What are you talking about?" asked the elder man cautiously.
"About fifty thousand pounds."