“Oh, John! . . . But he’ll maybe sell it to me.”
“Ye fool!”
Presently she said: “Sit down, dearie, and try a cup o’ tea. I’ve made it fresh for ye.”
He went on pacing. “And what about Symington?”
“If ye were to tell him the truth, maybe—”
“Ye fool!”
“But I was thinking,” she said meekly, “he might help ye for his own sake.”
“The only way he can help me is to marry your niece within the three months, getting her promise at once, of course. But—”
“Something maybe happened in the train last night,” she ventured. “Ye’ll be hearing from him in the morning.”
“I wonder,” he said slowly, “where she got the money to gang to London wi’.”