He smiled pleasantly and went out to join Jessop, who was waiting impatiently, but with his eyes fixed upon Dinah’s open window all the time.
“A smooth, deceitful scoundrel!” said Clive contemptuously, and he held out a hand to the Doctor, who laid a finger upon his pulse. “Quite calm, Doctor,” he continued. “Yes, I’m about well now. I only want rest and peace. As soon as you will let me, I will go right away. On the Continent, I think.”
“Yes; do you a great deal of good, my dear boy,” said the Major. “We must have a change too. Poor Dinah is very pale.”
Clive was silent for a few moments, and then said coldly—
“Yes, Miss Gurdon looks very white. I am most grateful to you, Major Gurdon, for the care and attention I have received in this house.”
“Then prove it, sir,” said the Major sternly.
“I will,” said Clive, with not a muscle moving. “I will do so by releasing your daughter from an engagement which has become irksome and painful to her.”
“What!”
“From any ties which held her to a kind of bankrupt—to a man broken in health, pocket, and his belief in human nature.”
“Mr Clive Reed,” began the Major haughtily. “No: Clive, my dear boy, you are sick and look at things from a jaundiced point of view. Don’t talk nonsense. You will think differently in a week.”