“Beg pardon; yes,” said the stockbroker, trying hard to recall what he had said. “Very sorry; but those are my principles, ma’am.—I’m twenty pounds out of pocket, Miss Raleigh,” he continued, “by not doing this bit of business of your aunt’s.”
“And I think it is a very great piece of presumption on your part, Mr Saxby. You need not address my niece, sir; she does not understand these matters at all. Am I to understand then, that you refuse to buy these shares for me?”
“Yes, ma’am, must distinctly. I wouldn’t buy ’em for a client on any consideration.”
“Very well, sir; that will do,” said Aunt Sophia shortly. “Good-morning.”
“But, my dear madam—”
“I said that will do, Mr Saxby,” said Aunt Sophia stiffly. “Good-morning.”
Mr Saxby’s lips moved, and he seemed to be trying to say something in his own defence, and he also turned towards Naomi, as if seeking for sympathy; but she only cast down her eyes.
“Perhaps Mr Saxby would like to walk round the garden before he goes away,” continued Aunt Sophia, looking at a statuette beneath a glass shade as she spoke. “He will find my nephew and the doctor there.—Naomi, my dear, come with me.”
“Really madam”—began the stockbroker.
“Of course you will charge your expenses for this visit to me, Mr Saxby,” said Aunt Sophia coldly; and without another word she swept out of the room.