“You worm yourself into my confidence till you get the run of the house, and can come and go as you like, and you finish up by making love to my daughter!”
“It is no crime to love Miss Culpepper, I hope, sir. There are few people, I imagine, who could know her without loving her.”
“That’s all very well, but you don’t get over me in that way, young sir. What right have you to make love to my daughter? That’s what I want to know.”
“I may love Miss Culpepper, but I have never told her so.”
“Do you mean to say that you have never asked her to marry you?”
“Never, sir; on that point I give you my word of honour.”
“A good thing for you that you haven’t. The sooner you get that love tomfoolery out of your head the better.”
“I promise you one thing, sir,” said Tom; “if I ever do marry Miss Culpepper, it shall be with your full consent and good wishes.”
The Squire could not help chuckling. “In that case, my boy, you will never have her—not if you live to be as old as Methuselah.”
“Time will prove, sir.”