"The arrangement is indeed an equitable one," said Mr. Torrens, not without the least scintillation of satire in his remark: "but I see one fatal objection."
"And that is your daughter Rosamond," observed Mrs. Slingsby. "Surely the whim—the aversion—or the phantasy of a girl will not induce you to reject a proposal which will save you from ruin and imprisonment?"
"And yet, what could I say to her? how could I explain my conduct? what would she think, after all she knows of you?" demanded Mr. Torrens.
"She has not the power to prevent the match; and that is the principal point in the matter," returned Mrs. Slingsby coolly. "You may as well urge as an objection that Clarence Villiers, my nephew, is your son-in-law; but I am not so foolish as to be alarmed at such scruples, and you must have seen too much of the world to allow yourself to be irretrievably ruined for the sake of a few idle punctilios. Give me your decision at once—aye or nay. If it be the former, the marriage may be celebrated by special license to-morrow evening; if it be the latter, there is at once an end of the business, and we need not be the less good friends."
"You regard the whole proposition, then, entirely as a matter of business," said Mr. Torrens. "Well—that is indeed the way to look at it. Of course, if we strike a bargain and unite our fortunes, we shall require only one establishment. Will you break up this in Old Burlington Street, and be contented to dwell at my Cottage?"
"Certainly," was the reply. "The sale of my furniture will pay my debts, and perhaps leave a surplus; at all events we shall have the two thousand pounds clear."
"And that sum you will place in my hands to-morrow morning?" said Mr. Torrens interrogatively.
"No—to-morrow evening, after the ceremony," responded the widow.
"Then we cannot trust each other?" continued Mr. Torrens.
"I think we should act prudently to adopt as many mutual precautions as possible," observed Mrs. Slingsby coolly.