The old man chuckled. "Oh, yes, you know well enough—the brother who spends his time racing and betting. You are a fool, Helen; he doesn't want you; and if he did, he couldn't afford to keep you."
"Suppose we leave Captain Kynaston's name out of the discussion, grandpapa," she said, quietly, but her face flushed suddenly and her hands twisted themselves nervously in and out of her heavy chain. "Are you not going to your study this evening?"
"Oh yes, I'm going, fast enough. You want me out of the way, I suppose. Somebody coming to tea, eh? Oh yes, I'll clear out. I don't want to listen to your rubbish."
The old man gathered up his books and papers and shuffled out of the room, muttering to himself as he went.
The servant came in, bringing the lamp, replenished the fire and drew the curtains, shutting out the light of day.
"Any one to tea, ma'am?" he inquired, respectfully.
"One gentleman—no one else. Bring up tea when he comes."
"Very well, ma'am;" and the servant withdrew. Mrs. Romer paced impatiently up and down the room, stopping again and again before the clock.
"Late again! A whole half-hour behind his time! It is insufferable that he should treat me like this. He would go quickly enough to see some new face—some fresh fancy that had attracted him."
She took out her watch and laid it on the table. "Let me see if he will come before the minute-hand touches the quarter; he must be here by then!"