"It is a cold morning," he said; "but we are not here to discuss the weather."
He stopped short. He had been hurried here so much against his will, and so entirely without an explanation, that he was not quite sure what he had come to discuss, or how he could best support his friend.
"What do you want?" said Dare, in the same suppressed voice, without looking at her.
"My rights," she said, incisively; "and, what's more, I mean to have 'em. I've not come over from America for nothing, I can tell you that; and I've not come on a visit neither. I've come to stay."
"What are these rights you talk of?" asked Mr. Alwynn, signing to Dare to restrain himself.
"As his wife, sir. I am his wife, as I can prove. I didn't come without my lines to show. I didn't come on a speculation, to see if he'd a fancy to have me back. No, afore I set my foot down anywheres I look to see as it's solid walking."
"Show your proof," said Mr. Alwynn.
The woman ostentatiously got out a red morocco letter case, and produced a paper which she handed to Mr. Alwynn.
It was an authorized copy of a marriage register, drawn out in the usual manner, between Alfred Dare, bachelor, English subject, and Ellen, widow of the late Jaspar Carroll, of Neosho City, Kansas, U.S.A. The marriage was dated seven years back.
The names of Dare and Carroll swam before Mr. Alwynn's eyes. He glanced at the paper, but he could not read it.