“Oh no, Miss Vine,” said the girl, laughing, “my father must fight his own battle. As for me, I give up. Perhaps you are right, and I am only a Dutch girl after all.”
“Oh, I wish we were back in London!” cried Harry as they strolled along towards the cliff walk.
“Ah, this is a dead-and-alive place, and no mistake,” said Pradelle.
“Why don’t you leave it, then?” said Harry sulkily. “You are free.”
“No, I am not. I don’t like to see a friend going to the bad; and besides, I have your aunt’s commission to try and save you from sinking down into a miserable tradesman.”
“Why don’t you save me, then?”
“That’s just like you. Look here, sink all cowardice, and go up to the old boy like a Trojan. Plenty of money, hasn’t he?”
“I suppose so. I don’t know.”
“He’s sure to have.”
“But he’s such an old porcupine.”