"Even going so far as threats. Well, I have too high a respect for Miss Ward to ask her to marry such a worm as Walter. She would do better to take Brendon."
"She shan't marry him."
"Why do you hate the man so?" asked Derrington, looking into her eyes. "I know he is a strong man, and for the money's sake you do not want him to be your son-in-law. But even this does not account for your hatred. Why do you hate him?"
"I have nothing to say," retorted Mrs. Ward, who had flushed and paled alternately during this speech. "Please see me to the door."
Derrington walked to the door and opened it with a bow. "Willingly. I think we understand one another."
"I think we do," said Mrs. Ward, with an artificial laugh. "You do credit to your reputation, Lord Derrington."
"Praise from Mrs. Ward is praise, indeed," said the ironical old gentleman as he descended the stairs side by side with the woman who could have found it in her heart to kill him. "I am sorry to ask you to leave me so soon, as our conversation was most enjoyable. But I have to see a certain Mr. Ireland----"
"Is that Brendon's guardian?" asked Mrs. Ward, coming to a sudden stop in the hall.
"His former guardian," corrected Derrington. "How do you come to know of him, Mrs. Ward?"
"I think Dorothy mentioned the name," she said in rather a faltering tone. "Dear me, how my face burns! I wish I had a veil."