‘But I am your stepfather, and, as a matter of courtesy, not to say more, you should, I think, have favoured me from your own lips with the news of your engagement.’
‘My affairs have nothing to do with you, Mr. Stanford.’
‘Miss Marian, I am not here to quarrel, but to congratulate you,’ he said. ‘Our relations have long been uncomfortable. I should have quitted this house some time ago, but for the difficulty I find in meeting with one equally suitable. My practice is of the utmost importance to me not for my sake only; it is my duty to make a provision for your mother’s child.’
‘She is your child!’ I cried, hotly.
‘I do not need to be told that, Miss Marian. It is very painful to me to reflect that your antipathy should have no other basis than your lamented mother’s love for me. Your mother, I hope and trust, was dear to you, Miss Marian, and it is most regrettable that there is nothing in her memory to soften your violent prejudice.’
‘I beg you will not speak to me of my mother.’
He eyed me askant; he had a way of looking at you with his head half turned. ‘I am here primarily to congratulate you,’ said he. ‘It is your pleasure to be reticent, and I will therefore not trouble you with any questions about your fiancé. But one inquiry you will forgive—it is a matter of business. When, pray, are you to be married?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You will probably settle in this house with your husband?’
‘When he is my husband he shall live where he pleases, and I’ll live with him.’