“What! Don’t you know Ben Hayle better than that? Do you think he is the man to sit down quietly when he knows the truth? Have you not seen that the foolish fellow believes thoroughly what he as good as told me to my face this morning—that he expects to see his daughter some day mistress here?”
“Ben Hayle’s a fool,” cried Rolph, angrily, “and you and Madge here are half-crazy. Let’s have an end of it. Once for all, mother, I mean to do exactly as I like, and I have done as I liked.”
Mrs Rolph started forward in her chair, and Marjorie’s lips tightened.
“What do you mean, Rob?” cried the former.
“You want to see me married, I believe?”
“I want to see you prove yourself an honourable gentleman—a worthy son of your father, not a man for whom I should blush.”
“All right, then. I’ve taken the right steps for settling into a quiet, country gentleman. I’m going to be married.”
Marjorie’s eyes flashed.
“Rob, you will not be so mad as to marry that girl?”
“Yes, I shall,” he said coolly.