"Refuse me?" he exclaimed.
"Only because I don't feel like marrying, dear friend," and she rolled some feeling into her voice. "Have you forgotten that I am an old frump with gray hair?" She took off the billycock hat and bent her head, just as she had done to Gerald Vincent.
"I don't care," he said, "I want you." He put an arm round her shoulder in a well-considered manner.
"I am very fond of you," she said; "I have a great affection for you, but I'm not going to be the laughing-stock of the town—a middle-aged frump marrying an actor a little younger than herself. Let's go on as we are, anyhow till Lena is married."
"Then what did you come up for?"
"It was quite time," she answered, dryly. "I suppose you know the Vincent girl is engaged to Tom Carringford?"
"She has just written to tell me, and thrown up the theatre business."
"She sha'n't have him, the little devil!" Mrs. Lakeman exclaimed. "I'll take good care of that; I have," she added, "for he's at Pitlochry by this time."
"At Pitlochry?" Farley exclaimed.
"Having breakfast with Lena. Lena, in a muslin morning gown lying on a sofa—Tom holding her hand—the rest you can imagine."