“Then why weren’t you rude? Do you want him here, fooling about that girl till she thinks he loves her and marries him?”
“Oh, no, dear, it would be horrid. But you don’t think—”
“Yes, I do, fortunately,” snapped Wilton. “Why don’t you think?”
“I do try to, my dear.”
“Bah! Try! Then you want to bring in those locusts of Morrisons. It’s bad enough to know that the money goes there if Kate dies, without having them hanging about and wanting her to go.”
“I’m very, very sorry, James. I wish I was as clever as you.”
“So do I. Then, as soon as you are checked in that, you dodge round and invite that Doctor, who’s a deuced sight too good-looking, to come again, and ask him to bring his sister.”
“But, my dear, it will do Kate so much good, and she really seems very nice.”
“Nice, indeed! I wish you were. I believe you are half mad.”
“Really, James, you are too bad, but I won’t resent it, for I want to go up to Kate; but if someone here is mad, it is not I.”