"Mrs. Lavender is a dear old lady," she said to herself, "but I really fear she will soon ask me not to breathe in her presence. I never felt so horribly restrained in my life. I must make a rush for that drawing room if she doesn't soon unburden her mind."
"I have not yet written to my son," continued the old lady.
"Oh, dear, and the Indian mail has gone!" answered Cecil.
"May I ask you, Cecil Ross," continued Mrs. Lavender, "if you have the pleasure of knowing my son, Judge Lavender?"
"No, madam, of course not. I did not get to know Molly until years after her father had left England."
"I thought as much," said Mrs. Lavender, nodding her head sagely. "Now, may I ask if the idea has ever occurred to you, that by borrowing money from a total stranger you are putting yourself under a rather unpleasant obligation to him?"
"But not to Molly's father—and I can pay it back," replied Cecil anxiously.
"Allow me to finish what I was going to say, my love. You want that money very badly?"
"In one sense, dreadfully; although, if I had it, I don't know that I could use it."