Hearing that she paused for a reply, Mr Miles, after pausing also for a moment, said,—
“You are thinking only of him.”
“And of whom should I think?” she asked, vehemently.
“Perhaps I have been in error: I think I have been in error,” said Mr Miles, speaking with a strange humility. “One has no right to live with one’s eyes shut. But, Marion, if this be so, I cannot make wrong more wrong. Marmaduke has no prospect of being able to marry for a considerable number of years, unless, indeed, this shadowy hope to which he clings of Mr Tregennas—”
“It ought not to be shadowy. It is disgraceful that he should not say more. Papa, you must write and press this upon him.”
“I!”
“Yes, indeed! There is no one else.”
“This is simply absurd, Marion,” said Mr Miles with some anger.
But he had given her an advantage, which she was resolved to use even to ungenerosity.
“You said you had been unjust to Marmaduke—”