“Don’t fool.”
“I am not fooling, but speaking in sober earnest. My dear boy, you must be photographed, painted, modelled, sculptured, and, hang it all, my dear Alison, you will have to be put in Madame Tussaud’s.”
“Then it will be in the Chamber of Horrors for killing you,” said Alison fiercely. “I’m not in a humour to be played with, so leave off.”
“Then if it is not money, it’s love,” said Sir Cheltnam. “I’ve done, my dear boy; but tell me where your sister is.”
“I don’t know.”
“Or won’t know,” said Sir Cheltnam. “Never mind. You will be better soon, and then apologetic.” Alison made no answer, and Sir Cheltnam walked slowly away.
“Sulky cub!” he muttered. “What’s the matter with him? Quarrelled with Dana perhaps, and she is leading him a life. Well, she is quite capable of doing it, and her sister will keep a pretty tight curb on Neil. I shall have a nice set of brothers and sisters-in-law when it comes off. Well, I don’t know that it much matters. I am quite capable of keeping a watch over my own front door.”