“I don’t,” said she.
“Then,” said he, sober enough now, and standing between her and the door, “there is another question still Is the reason because some one else in this house has—”
“Mr Scarfe,” said Raby quietly, “don’t you think, when I ask you to let me go, it is not quite polite of you to prevent me?”
“Please excuse me,” he said apologetically. “I was excited, and forgot; but, Raby, do let me warn you, for your sake, to beware of this fellow Jeffreys. No, let me speak,” said he, as she put up her hand to stop him. “I will say nothing to offend you. You say you do not care for me, and I have nothing to gain by telling you this. If he has—”
“Mr Scarfe, you are quite mistaken; do, please, let me go.”
Scarfe yielded, bitterly mortified and perplexed. His vanity had all along only supposed one possible obstacle to his success with Raby, and that was a rival. That she would decline to have him for any other reason had been quite beyond his calculations, and he would not believe it now.
Jeffreys may not have actually gone as far as to propose to her, but, so it seemed, there was some understanding between them which barred Scarfe’s own chance. The worst of it all was that to do the one thing he would have liked to do would be to spoil his own chance altogether. For Raby, whether she cared for Jeffreys or not, would have nothing to say to Scarfe if he was the means of his ruin.
The air during the next few days seemed charged with thunder. Mrs Rimbolt was in a state of war with every one, Mrs Scarfe was poorly, the two Oxford visitors began to vote their visit slow, Scarfe was moody, Raby was unhappy, Jeffreys felt continually half-choked, Percy alone kept up his spirits, while Mr Rimbolt, happiest of all, went up North to look at his old books.
No one was particularly sorry when the visits came to an end. Even the Sports and Boat Race had failed to revive the drooping spirits of the Oxonians, and on the Monday following it was with a considerable stretch of politeness that they all thanked Mrs Rimbolt for a very pleasant visit.
Scarfe, taking farewell of Raby, begged that some time, later on, he might come to see her again, but was quite unable to gather from her reply whether she desired it or not. Jeffreys wisely kept out of the way while the departures were taking place, despite Mrs Rimbolt’s suggestion that he should be sent for to help the cabman carry out the boxes.