"You want it now?" he suggested.
"No."
"Your father's son," commented my father's friend. "Stubborn and rude. A true Howard of Hopton. I have got you down in my will, however, and I'm going to interfere in your affairs. That is why I sent for you."
I smoked and waited.
"I take it," he went on in his short and breathless way, "that things are at a standstill somewhat in this position. If you marry Isabella Gayerson, you will have with her money, which is a tidy fortune, four thousand a year. If you don't have the young woman, you can live at Hopton, but without a sou to your name. You want to marry Mademoiselle, who thinks you are too old and too big a scoundrel. That is Mademoiselle's business. Giraud junior is also in love with Mademoiselle Lucille, who would doubtless marry him if he had the wherewithal. In the mean time she is coy—awaiting the result of your search. You are seeking Giraud's money, so that he may marry Mademoiselle of the bright eyes—you understand that, I suppose?"
"Thoroughly."
"That is all right. It is best to have these affairs clearly stated. Now, why the devil do you not ask Isabella to marry you—"
"To begin with, she would not have me," I interrupted.
"Nice girl, capable of a deep and passionate affection—I know these quiet women—two thousand five hundred a year."
"She wouldn't have me."