“That was beyond my control. She has told you what happened. I fought hard against what the world calls a piece of folly. I—avoided her. There is, there can be, no sort of engagement between us, unless——”
“Unless what?”
“Oh, it is a stupid thing to say, but you American millionaires do occasionally get hipped by the other fellow. If Marten came a cropper, I’d have my chance.”
Power laughed quietly. “You are a true Briton,” he said. “You think there is no security for money except in trustee stocks. Well, I won’t disturb your faith. Now, I want you to call on Mr. Marten tomorrow and ask him formally for his daughter’s hand.”
“Then the fat will be in the fire.” Evidently, Philip and Nancy were well mated.
“Possibly; but it is the proper thing to do.”
“But, Mr. Power, you can’t have considered your suggestion fully. Suppose Mr. Marten even condescends to listen? His first question floors me. I have my pay and two hundred a year. I don’t know a great deal about the cost of ladies’ clothes, but I rather imagine my little lot would about buy Nancy’s hats.”
“In this changeable climate she would certainly catch a severe cold. But you are going to tell Mr. Marten that the day you and Nancy sign a marriage contract your father will settle half a million sterling on you, and half a million on Nancy. So the fat spilled in the fire should cause a really fine flare-up.”
Military training confers calmness and self-control in an emergency; but the Honorable Philip Lindsay obviously thought that his new friend had suddenly gone mad.
“I really thought you understood the position,” he began again laboriously. “I haven’t gone into the calculation, but I should say, offhand, that our place in Scotland wouldn’t yield half a million potatoes.”