Philip went into a passion. "What right has Mr. Kettle to set himself up as a censor of my morals and conduct?" asked he, with a heightened colour.
"No right at all, I suppose, in one sense of the word, nor does he profess to do so," was Maria's grave reply. "But one thing he has a right to do: to think of me and of my welfare. Don't you see that, Philip?"
Philip fumed and frowned, and slashed at an unoffending nettle with his cane. They had been walking slowly onward in this unfrequented lane, where they were free to talk without observation.
"Am I to consider our engagement at an end?" demanded Philip, after a few moments' silence.
"There has been no engagement, as you are well aware," returned Maria in a low voice.
"_You_ know quite well what I mean. Am I to look upon it that all is at an end between us?"
"Papa says so. He thinks it will be best so."
"And you, Maria?"
A moment's pause; then in a very low voice: "I think as papa thinks. You know I _must_, Philip."
Again they walked slowly on, without speaking. Presently Philip resumed: