“And Miss Dillon does not approve of the wedding,” he said to himself as Mary entered, her eyes plainly showing that she had been weeping.
“Good-morning,” she said, taking the chair placed for her with heavy courtesy. “My cousin is unwell, Mr Trevithick, and cannot see you. Will you either come over again or state your business to me?”
“I shall be only too glad,” he said, smiling.
“I thought you would,” replied Mary. “Of course you will make a charge for this journey.”
Trevithick looked at her aghast; and then flushed and perspired.
“I said I should be only too glad to discuss the business with you, Miss Dillon,” he said stiffly.
“No, you did not, Mr Trevithick.”
“I beg pardon. That is what I meant.”
“Oh! then please go on.”
“Why will she always be so sharp with me?” thought the lawyer, as he looked across the table wistfully.