"Oh, but not much. No!--you took a dear, unworldly generous view of it!--a view which has encouraged me immensely!"
"You!" Lady Niton drew back, and drew up, as though scenting battle, while her wig and cap slipped more astray.
"Yes--me. It's made me think--well, that I ought to have told you a secret of mine weeks ago."
And with a resolute and combative air, Bobbie suddenly unburdened himself of the story of his engagement--to a clergyman's daughter, without a farthing, his distant cousin on his mother's side, and quite unknown to Lady Niton.
His listener emitted a few stifled cries--asked a few furious questions--and then sat rigid.
"Well?" said Bobbie, masking his real anxiety under a smiling appearance.
With a great effort, Lady Niton composed herself. She stretched out a claw and resumed her work, two red spots on her cheeks.
"Marry her, if you like," she said, with delusive calm. "I sha'n't ever speak to you again. A scheming minx without a penny!--that ought never to have been allowed out of the school-room."
Bobbie leaped from his chair.
"Is that the way you mean to take it?"