"Which girl do you mean?" said Trevor.
"Don't prevaricate; you know perfectly well to whom I allude."
"Miss Sharston? She is far too good, far too sweet to have her name bandied between us. I decline to discuss her."
"You must discuss her. You can do so with all possible respect. Kitty Sharston is to be your wife, Maurice."
"She will never be my wife," he replied. His tone was so firm, he stood so upright as he spoke, his eyes were fixed so sternly, that just for a moment Mrs. Aylmer recognised that she had met her match.
"You refuse to do what I wish?" she said then slowly, "I who have done all for you?"
"I refuse to do this. This is the final straw of all. No wealth is worth having at the price you offer. I will only marry the woman I love. I respect, I admire, I reverence Miss Sharston; but I do not love her, nor does she love me. It is sacrilege to talk of a marriage between us. If I offered she would refuse; it is not to be thought of; besides—"
"Why do you stop? Go on. It is just like your gratitude. How true are the poet's words: 'Sharper than serpent's tooth!' But what is your intention in the future?"
"Justice," he replied. "I cannot bear this. It troubles me more than I can say. If you will not reinstate the girl who ought to be your heiress in her right position, I at least will do what I can for her. I will offer her all I have."
"You! you!" Mrs. Aylmer now indeed turned pale. She rose from her seat and came a step nearer the young man.