“H’m!” grunted Mr. Penicuik, taking another pinch of snuff. He gave a sudden cackle of laughter. “Ay, you’re a sly puss!” he told Miss Charing. “Damme, I’ll let you go!” His mirth ceased; a look of anguish entered his face; he said, with a moan: “But you’ll be wanting to waste my money on finery!”
“No, no!” faltered Kitty, tightly clasping her hands. “Only—only a very little, sir, I promise!”
“I can’t afford it!” said Mr. Penicuik, relapsing into decrepitude. “You’ll ruin me!”
“You did say I should have a hundred pounds for my bride-clothes!” Kitty reminded him desperately.
He shook his head sadly. “You’d want more. Peacocking about the town! I know!”
“No, indeed I should not!” she assured him.
“Yes, you would,” interrupted Freddy. “Told you so last night!”
“Oh, Freddy, do pray hold your tongue!”
“Dashed if I will!” said Freddy, feeling himself to be on firm ground. “You can’t buy town rig for a hundred pounds: shouldn’t think it would purchase more than one gown, myself.”
“What?” screamed Mr. Penicuik.