As usual, he was smartly-groomed and the essence of politeness. As he took her hand, he said:
“Miss Elma, I want to tell you that I sympathise very much with your father in his great misfortune, the secret of which I happen to know—though as yet the world suspects nothing. But I fear it soon will, unless your father can come forward with some big and lucrative scheme. I have it in my power to help him with the mining concession in Morocco. I will do so on one condition.”
“And what is that, Mr Rutherford?” she asked quite calmly.
He looked straight into her big, wide-open eyes and, after a second’s pause, replied:
“That I may be permitted to pay my attentions to you—for I confess that I love you.”
The girl’s cheeks coloured slightly and the expression in her eyes altered.
“That cannot be,” she said. “I am already engaged.”
“To that young fellow Homfray, I believe?” he laughed. “Has he not already misled you and your father into believing that he is a rich man, inasmuch that he pretends to have been granted some worthless concession also in Morocco? Surely such a man is not suited to you as a husband, Miss Elma? Could you ever trust him?”
“I will not have Mr Homfray’s character besmirched in my presence, Mr Rutherford,” she said haughtily. “And if this is the matter upon which you wished to speak with me I should prefer that you said nothing further.”
“Elma! I love you!” he cried, with openly sensual admiration.