Mrs. Thompson: A Novel

by W. B. Maxwell

"It's all right," said Marsden. "It was arranged between her and me."

"But I know nothing of any such arrangement. I can't permit it for a moment."

"You can't permit it!" said Marsden indignantly. "What the dickens has it got to do with you?"

Mr. Collins, with an assumption of tactful delicacy, had pushed back his chair. "Excuse me. This is a private conversation. I hasten to withdraw." And he went across to Archibald Bence and Mrs. Marsden, and talked to them in a rapid undertone.

Mr. Prentice went on protesting; and Marsden, cutting him short, called loudly to his wife.

"Jane, tell him that it is all right."

"Yes," she said. "Quite all right, Mr. Prentice."

"Oh, you mean that you are giving him a present of fifteen hundred pounds?"

"It's not a present," said Marsden.