"Ah," he observed, "that's the sort of man he is; if he robbed his mother he would swear that she'd robbed him. But perhaps he's not to blame. According to the new philosophy that sort of thing is in the blood."
Mr. Ash turned pale.
"Mrs. Clive, may I ask you to withdraw?"
"That's another of his dodges; he doesn't want you to know what sort of man he is. But I don't mind telling you, not the least. He's not the sort of man I should care to choose to be trustee to my girl. He is the sort of man who regards a trusteeship as the royal road to wealth."
Mr. Ash began to grow angry, which was not surprising on the whole.
"Mrs. Clive, that man is the greatest thief in town."
"That's why he wanted me to marry his ward--that we might go halves, you know."
This remark so evidently enraged Mr. Ash that Mrs. Clive actually feared that hostilities would be commenced upon her drawing-room floor. She endeavoured to interpose.
"Gentlemen, I must beg of you to consider where you are!"
"You mustn't ask from him impossibilities; he can't realise that he's in a respectable house, you know."