“Why didn’t you write those letters, Mary?” said the old man fiercely.
“I did write, dear, and there they are on your table, ready for you to read over. Would you like to do it now?”
“No,” said Gartram, in his harshest voice. “Going, Glyddyr?” he continued, as the latter rose.
“Yes; I’ll walk back with Doctor Asher.”
“Ah, well, we shall see you this evening.—Don’t forget, doctor.”
He walked to the drawbridge with them, leaving Mary and Claude alone.
“There, Claudie; if any one tells you that you haven’t got a good little cousin, even if she is a bad shape—”
“Mary, darling!” cried Claude, clinging to her, “I can’t thank you enough. I felt that I must rush away out of the room, and should have done so if you had not come.”
“Was he so very dreadful, Claudie?”
“Dreadful! It was horrible. Oh, Mary, darling, pray that you may never have to listen to a man who loves you.”