“I don’t mean that at all,” said Mr. Raggett snappishly. “I mean I’m thinking of getting married.”
“Good—gracious!” said Kate, open-mouthed.
“I may have one foot in the grave, and resemble a dried herring in the face,” pursued Mr. Raggett with bitter sarcasm, “but—”
“You can’t help that,” said Kate gently.
“But I’m going to get married,” said Raggett savagely.
“Well, don’t get in a way about it,” said the girl. “Of course, if you want to, and—and—you can find somebody else who wants to, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t! Have you told father about it?”
“I have,” said Mr. Raggett, “and he has given his consent.”
He put such meaning into this remark, and so much more in the contortion of visage which accompanied it, that the girl stood regarding him in blank astonishment.
“His consent?” she said in a strange voice.
Mr. Raggett nodded.