Suddenly his cheek flushed.
He sat down beside her and tried to take her hand.
"Look here," he said, with vivacity, "I think you were an awful brick to
stick up for Miss Mallory as you did."
Lady Niton withdrew her hand.
"I haven't an idea what you're driving at."
"You really thought that Oliver should have given up all that money?"
His companion looked at him rather puzzled.
"He wouldn't have been a pauper," she said, dryly; "the girl had some."
"Oh, but not much. No!--you took a dear, unworldly generous view of
it!--a view which has encouraged me immensely!"
"You!" Lady Niton drew back, and drew up, as though scenting battle,
while her wig and cap slipped more astray.
"Yes--me. It's made me think--well, that I ought to have told you a
secret of mine weeks ago."
And with a resolute and combative air, Bobbie suddenly unburdened
himself of the story of his engagement--to a clergyman's daughter,
without a farthing, his distant cousin on his mother's side, and quite
unknown to Lady Niton.
His listener emitted a few stifled cries--asked a few furious
questions--and then sat rigid.
"Well?" said Bobbie, masking his real anxiety under a smiling
appearance.
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