That evening, just after Hughes had brought in the tea, her father being in the City, the old man reappeared saying that Mr Rutherford had called.
She held her breath, then, with an effort, she gave permission for him to be shown in.
The stout, beady-eyed man, in perfect-fitting clothes and a dangling monocle, crossed the carpet, smiling, with hand outstretched. The girl asked him to be seated, and poured him out a cup of tea. Her thoughts were of Roddy, but she strove to crush them down. Her brain was awhirl, for she knew that only by her own sacrifice could her beloved father be saved.
Presently, when they had chatted about other things, Rutherford returned to the point and bluntly asked whether she had reconsidered her decision.
“Yes, Mr Rutherford, I have,” she replied very slowly in a deep, tense voice. “You are prepared to assist my father under a certain condition. That I accept.”
“Then you will marry me!” he cried, with triumph in his eyes, as he jumped up and seized her hand. Then she felt his hot breath upon her cheek and shrank from his embrace.
When he left she went to her room and, locking the door, gave way to another paroxysm of grief.
At nine o’clock that night Rutherford called again and told Mr Sandys of Elma’s acceptance.
The old man stood staggered.
“Elma has done this for your sake, Mr Sandys,” Rutherford said. “And, after all, it is a marriage of convenience, as so many are. Both our positions will be improved by it, yours and mine, for this concession will mean big money to both of us.”