“Well, I've suggested two things, and you don't like either. Why not go round and ask to see the old lady?”
“Mrs. Pasmer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I thought of that. But I didn't like to mention it, for fear you'd sit on it. When would you go?”
“Well, about as quick as I could get there. It's early for a call, but it's a peculiar occasion, and it'll show your interest in the thing. You can't very well let it cool on your hands, unless you mean to accept the situation.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Mavering, getting up and standing over Boardman. “Do you think I could accept the situation, as you call it, and live?”
“You did once,” said Boardman. “You couldn't, unless you could fix it up with Mrs. Frobisher's sister.”
Mavering blushed. “It was a different thing altogether then. I could have broken off then, but I tell you it would kill me now. I've got in too deep. My whole life's set on that girl. You can't understand, Boardman, because you've never been there; but I couldn't give her up.”
“All right. Better go and see the old lady without loss of time; or the old man, if you prefer.”
Mavering sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Look here, Boardman, what do you mean?”