"I will," said Quarle grimly.
"And will you please tell me when it will be convenient for you to go?" she asked again. "Oh, please don't think that I'm anxious to get rid of you; I'd like to keep you here for ever and ever; but of course I have to remember that things are so different—and that father and Aubrey must be considered. I'm sure you understand that."
Simon Quarle slowly laid down his fork for the last time, and pushed his plate away from him. "Come here," he said gruffly.
She got up, and came round the table, and stood close to him; he took one of the hands that was a little coarsened with work, and gently held it while he spoke to her; and his voice was altogether changed.
"When I came here first you were a bit of a girl in short frocks—shorter even than they are now—and I was sorry for you. I could have gone to other lodgings——"
"I'm glad you didn't, Mr. Quarle," she whispered.
"But I didn't. I came here because I liked the look of you, and I thought my bit of money might be useful. There was no woman in the world that was anything to me—and I had no chicks—no one who cared a button about me. I saw you grow up—and you didn't grow up half badly; and I suppose because I'm an old fool, I'm fond of you."
"I know," she said softly.
"Consequently, I don't want any tricks to be played, or any infernal nonsense to come into your life and to upset it. I'm not going to say anything about family matters, because I suppose after all a father's a father, no matter what color he is. Only I'm a business man, little Bessie, and we must know that everything is fair and square and straight. Do you understand?"