“What is the matter with you?” said Lord Grayleigh; “you never were so scrupulous.”
“I don’t know that I am scrupulous now. I shall be very glad to assay the mine for you, if I may give you a——”
“We need not enter into that,” said Grayleigh, rising; “you have already put matters into words which had better never have been uttered. I will ask you to reconsider this: it is a task too important to decline without weighing all the pros and cons. You shall have big pay for your services; big pay, you understand.”
“And it is that which at once tempts and repels me,” said Ogilvie. Then he paused, and said abruptly, “How is Sibyl? Have you seen much of her?”
“Your little daughter? I saw her twice. Once, when she was very dirty, and rather rude to me, and a second time, when she was the perfection of politeness and good manners.”
“Sibyl is peculiar,” said Ogilvie, and his eyes gleamed with a flash of the same light in them which Sibyl’s wore at intervals.
“She is a handsome child, it is a pity she is your only one, Ogilvie.”
“Not at all,” answered Ogilvie; “I never wish for another, she satisfies me completely.”
“Well, to turn to the present matter,” said Lord Grayleigh; “you will reconsider your refusal?”
“I would rather not.”