"Don't? Why do you say so?"
"Because I——" Mrs. Mynors came to a stop. What could she say? "Because I have a lurking idea that he will not be kind to you." How ridiculous that sounded! And upon what was it based? Only upon the man's manner—his insolence, his evident desire to wound and insult her. Somehow she could not tell Virgie how his open contempt had stung.
"Because you—you don't know him—you can't love him," she stammered.
"But you knew him and loved him well enough to promise to marry him," countered Virgie instantly. "Of course, that has great weight with me. If he were a complete stranger, it would be different." She stood beside the bed, playing with one of its brass corner-knobs. "You know, mamma, I am rather an odd girl," said she with a swift blush. "I think I am attracted to what I pity. It would be waste to marry me to an adoring husband, who would give me everything I desired. I would rather give than have things given to me."
Mrs. Mynors lay back, watching her through narrowed eyes. "You are—yes, you certainly are odd," she muttered. "I own that I don't understand you in the least."
Virgie smiled. None knew better than she herself the truth of this statement.
"Of course," said she, "I am not accepting his offer definitely. I am simply saying that he may come here and see me to-morrow. I could not clinch the matter until we have some hold over him."
"What?" cried her mother sharply. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well," replied her young daughter simply, "Mr. Gaunt has made some big promises. How do we know that he means to keep them? You say he is eccentric. He may not be trustworthy. In any case, I shall not agree to do as he asks without being certain that he will do as he offers. We must go to Mr. Askew and ask him to come and meet him, so that a proper settlement may be prepared."
"Well, upon my word! Virgie, you cold-blooded little horror!" began Mrs. Mynors, almost in a scream. She broke off abruptly and rolled over, hiding her face in the pillows.