“When will Miss Peniston be in town?” said I.
He was not sure; but said I put it in his mind to say something.
“Well?” said I, on my guard.
He went on: “I am a frank man, Cousin Hugh.”
At times he was, and strangely so; then the next minute he would be indirect or lie to you. The mixture made it hard to understand what he was after.
“I trust,” he went on, “that you will pardon me if I say that in England custom does not sanction certain freedoms which in the colonies seem to be regarded as of no moment. I am not of this opinion. Miss Peniston is, I hope, to be my wife. She is young, impulsive, and—well, no matter. Some men take these things coolly; I do not. I am sure you will have the good sense to agree with me. When a woman is pledged to a man, it is fit that she should be most guarded in her relations with other men. I—”
Here I broke in, “What on earth does all this mean?”
“I will tell you. Your aunt writes now and then to Miss Peniston.”
“Certainly,” said I.
“Yes; she says, too, things concerning you and that lady which are not to my taste.”