“Because, as I have told you before, she is receiving the attentions of Mr Luke Ross.”
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Cyril, flushing. “That’s all off now.”
“I heard something of the kind; but what do you mean? Have they quarrelled?”
“Oh, no. Old Portlock wouldn’t have it: and quite right, too. Girl like that to be engaged to such a clod!”
“Cyril,” said his father, angrily, “I would to heaven that I had as good a son.”
“Complimentary to your boys, sir. Let’s see, he threw you over very shabbily about the school, didn’t he?”
“He declined the post, certainly.”
“Then even Mr Luke Ross is not perfect, sir.”
“I am not going to criticise his conduct over that matter, sir, beyond saying that he had no doubt good reasons for declining the post. On further consideration I think he was right, for unless he felt his heart to be in his work, he would have been wrong to venture upon binding himself to the school.”
“Most worthy young man, I’ve no doubt,” said Cyril, with a sneer.