"I shall never get married, guardy."
"No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?"
"Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it, guardy. What did Mrs. Walraven say?"
"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, either."
"But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?"
"I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes—that's flat! I wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say another word about it we'll quarrel."
He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough.
"I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, not the woman. It's a shame to make her suffer and let that horrible doctor off scot-free."
Mr. Walraven, in his study, meantime, had written a letter to Lawyer Sardonyx, detailing in brief his wishes, and requesting him to call upon Mrs. Walraven in the course of the day. That done, he quitted the house, determined to return no more until she had left.
The afternoon brought Hugh Ingelow. Mollie was alone in her room, having a very anxious time; but when his name was announced, she dropped the book she was trying to read and made a headlong rush down-stairs. If Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could hardly have been insensible to their flattering import.