'Surely you will see me again, darling—surely you will not accept my love and give me up at the same moment? I shall speak to Sir Ranald, if you will permit me.'
'Useless—useless; you would but precipitate my fate.'
'Your fate—what is that?'
'I don't know—I don't know,' moaned the girl, in sore bewilderment, while the thin aristocratic face of her father, with his keen, blue, inquiring eyes, gold pince-nez and all, seemed to rise before her.
'I am not rich I know, Alison darling.'
'And I have been used to the want of riches nearly all my life, and now—now—I must go.'
'Already! You will be here to-morrow?'
'Oh, no; not to-morrow.'
'When?'
'I cannot, dare not say.'