“Go on, Doctor, say what you like. I cannot defend myself.”
“I will go on, sir; I will say what I like, and I will risk its hurting you, for I feel towards you as a father, and it maddens me to see my old friend Grantham’s son behaving like a scoundrel towards as sweet and lovable a girl as ever lived.”
Clive drew a deep breath as they walked slowly along the shelf path towards the mine.
“Yes, sir, you may well shrink. I brought you out here for a walk to make you wince. I can talk to you, and say what I like out here without expecting the poor girl and her father to come back and interrupt. Look here, Clive; I’m a cleverish sort of old fellow in my way, and experience has put me up to a good many wrinkles in the treatment of disease, but I tell you frankly it was not I, but Dinah Gurdon, who saved your life by her nursing.”
“I suppose so,” said Clive, with a sigh.
“Then why the deuce, sir, do you go on like this and break the poor girl’s heart?”
“I cannot explain matters,” said Clive sadly. “You saw for yourself that Miss Gurdon accepted the position.”
“Of course she did, sir; so would any girl of spirit if she found a man playing fast and loose with her. Now look here, Clive, my boy, surely you are not throwing her over because you have lost all this money? Hang it, man! she would be just as happy if you hadn’t a penny. Now, then, out with it; was it because of the money?”
“The money! Absurd!” cried Clive, with an angry gesture.
“Then it must be due to some silly love quarrel. Look here, Clive, my boy, for your honour and your father’s honour, I’m going to take you back to the cottage, and when they return this evening, you will have to show them by your apology that if there is a scoundrel in the Reed family his name is not Clive. What do you say to that?”