"A nice sort of thing for a man to be told by his young woman! You shall leave that confounded theatre this week!"
"To do so is part of my plan. I shall hand in my notice to-morrow--that is, if I am engaged to Sir Frank Pickard by then."
"What?"
"Joe! don't be silly! Why are you glaring at me like that? Won't you understand? Already, in three separate and distinct letters Sir Frank has asked me to marry him."
"Has he?"
"Though, of course, I've paid no sort of attention to his insane request."
"I should think it was insane!"
"I don't fancy I use the word in quite the same sense in which you do. However, I've been making inquiries about him. I find he's of a very old family, and tremendously rich. His father is dead. He's the only child of his mother; she can't prevent his doing anything he chooses to do, and she wouldn't if she could. She idolises him. During his minority the income has accumulated, until now he has at his command a perfectly enormous sum of ready money. Five thousand pounds is nothing to him, or ten either. My idea is to ask him to call on me to-morrow, and then to get him to repeat in person the proposal which he has already made by letter. Having accepted him, I shall see that he puts it all down in black and white, so that everything is quite ship-shape. And then I shall hand in my notice at the theatre."
During the lady's remarks Mr Lamb's countenance was a panorama of disagreeable emotions.
"And where do you suppose I shall be while all this is going on?"