“Then what were you scrapping with him for?” said Martin with such instant relief that Charlotte laughed helplessly, though the tears were rolling down her cheeks. Martin studied her intently through the gloom.
“There’s something behind all this,” he remarked sententiously. “I never before knew you to dodge a question, or to be in such a mood. Now, see here, I’ve got some rights in this matter and I want to know about it.”
His tone brought her up sharp in her half-hysterical mirth. She replied quickly.
“You will not like it, Martin.”
“I’ll have to decide that.”
“Well, if nothing but the truth will do, he proposed to me that I should get rid of you and marry him.”
Collingwood threw down his cigar with an oath, and jumped, in the sudden rush of his anger, quite clear of the steps. He made several short, quick turns back and forth before he finally sat down again at his wife’s side.
“I suppose he had some reason for thinking you might entertain such a proposition,” he said bitterly.
Charlotte’s pride sprang to arms. “He may have had one,” she replied laconically. “It was not in any glance or words I had given him. I haven’t been flirting with him. My conscience is clear.”
“But men don’t make propositions of that sort without a reason, Charlotte.”