him at the table, and sat there, sipping her punch, and brooding over her unhappy circumstances. Freddy, who was grappling with thoughts of his own, rather absentmindedly refilled both glasses. A frown began to gather on his brow. He broke the silence by demanding suddenly: “Who’ll inherit the ready if you don’t marry one of us, Kit?”
“Uncle Matthew says he shall leave it to the Foundling Hospital,” replied Kitty. “All of it!”
“He does, does he? Seems to me Dolph ain’t the only one who’s queer in his attic!” said Mr. Standen. He stared fixedly at the play of the candlelight on the golden liquid in his glass. “Wonder if Jack knows that?” he said, in a ruminative tone.
“You may depend upon it that he does, for I am sure Uncle Matthew would not tell George and Hugh more than he has told Jack. And I am excessively happy to think that it has not weighed with him!”
“Wonder if he’s playing a deep game?” said Mr. Standen, pursuing his own meditations. “No saying what might be in his head: a curst rum touch, Jack! Shouldn’t have thought he’d whistle a fortune down the wind, though. Rather fancy he counted the old gentleman’s rolls of soft his own. Never knew such a fellow for wasting the ready! Played wily beguiled with his own fortune.” He encountered a startled look of enquiry from Miss Charing, and added succinctly: “Gamester. Tulip of the Turf. Seems to have come off all right so far, but m’father says he’ll end under the hatches. Very downy one, m’father!” He dwelt for a moment on the percipience of Lord Legerwood, while Miss Charing eyed him with hostility. Refreshing himself with some more punch, he said: “May be shamming it. Don’t care to have his hand forced. Must know you wouldn’t take Dolph or Hugh. Must know I ain’t hanging out for a rich wife. Means to steer the old gentleman to Point Non-Plus.” He drained his glass, and set it down. Still more profound thoughts deepened the frown on his brow. “Same time— may have come about again. Fresh as ever. Don’t need the ready. Don’t want to be married. Drop the handkerchief when he chooses.”
“Drop— Drop —?” stammered Kitty. “Do you mean —he thinks I w-would pick it up w-whenever— Oh !”
Much confused, Mr. Standen begged pardon. “Thinking to myself!” he explained.
She paid no heed to this, but said fiercely: “ Do you mean that?”
“No, no! That is—couldn’t blame him, Kit! Handsome phiz, you know—devil of a Corinthian—never at a stand! Daresay you don’t know it, but the fact is any number of caps set at him! High-fliers, too. Queer creatures, females,” mused Mr. Standen, shaking his head. “Fellow’s only got to be a rake to have ‘em all dangling after him. Silly, really, because it stands to reason—Well, never mind that!”
“Good gracious, Freddy, as though I was not well-aware that Jack is a shocking flirt!” said Kitty untruthfully, but with spirit. “I have not the least doubt that he flirts with all the prettiest ladies in London! Which makes it so particularly stupid and—and diverting of Uncle Matthew to suppose that he wished to offer for me! Indeed, I can’t imagine why anyone should think he would do so. I should be astonished to learn that he regards me as anything other than a dowdy schoolgirl!”
“Yes, I should be too,” agreed the Job’s comforter on the other side of the table.
Miss Charing swallowed another mouthful of punch. A gentle glow was spreading through her veins, dispelling the melancholy which had possessed her. It would have been too much to have said that she was restored to happiness, but she no longer despaired. A certain exhilaration infused her brain, which seemed all at once to be able quite easily to master difficulties that, a few minutes before, had appeared so insoluble. She sat bolt upright in her chair, staring straight ahead, the fingers of one hand tightening unconsciously round her tumbler. Mr. Standen,
“Uncle Matthew says he shall leave it to the Foundling Hospital,” replied Kitty. “All of it!”
“He does, does he? Seems to me Dolph ain’t the only one who’s queer in his attic!” said Mr. Standen. He stared fixedly at the play of the candlelight on the golden liquid in his glass. “Wonder if Jack knows that?” he said, in a ruminative tone.
“You may depend upon it that he does, for I am sure Uncle Matthew would not tell George and Hugh more than he has told Jack. And I am excessively happy to think that it has not weighed with him!”
“Wonder if he’s playing a deep game?” said Mr. Standen, pursuing his own meditations. “No saying what might be in his head: a curst rum touch, Jack! Shouldn’t have thought he’d whistle a fortune down the wind, though. Rather fancy he counted the old gentleman’s rolls of soft his own. Never knew such a fellow for wasting the ready! Played wily beguiled with his own fortune.” He encountered a startled look of enquiry from Miss Charing, and added succinctly: “Gamester. Tulip of the Turf. Seems to have come off all right so far, but m’father says he’ll end under the hatches. Very downy one, m’father!” He dwelt for a moment on the percipience of Lord Legerwood, while Miss Charing eyed him with hostility. Refreshing himself with some more punch, he said: “May be shamming it. Don’t care to have his hand forced. Must know you wouldn’t take Dolph or Hugh. Must know I ain’t hanging out for a rich wife. Means to steer the old gentleman to Point Non-Plus.” He drained his glass, and set it down. Still more profound thoughts deepened the frown on his brow. “Same time— may have come about again. Fresh as ever. Don’t need the ready. Don’t want to be married. Drop the handkerchief when he chooses.”
“Drop— Drop —?” stammered Kitty. “Do you mean —he thinks I w-would pick it up w-whenever— Oh !”
Much confused, Mr. Standen begged pardon. “Thinking to myself!” he explained.
She paid no heed to this, but said fiercely: “ Do you mean that?”
“No, no! That is—couldn’t blame him, Kit! Handsome phiz, you know—devil of a Corinthian—never at a stand! Daresay you don’t know it, but the fact is any number of caps set at him! High-fliers, too. Queer creatures, females,” mused Mr. Standen, shaking his head. “Fellow’s only got to be a rake to have ‘em all dangling after him. Silly, really, because it stands to reason—Well, never mind that!”
“Good gracious, Freddy, as though I was not well-aware that Jack is a shocking flirt!” said Kitty untruthfully, but with spirit. “I have not the least doubt that he flirts with all the prettiest ladies in London! Which makes it so particularly stupid and—and diverting of Uncle Matthew to suppose that he wished to offer for me! Indeed, I can’t imagine why anyone should think he would do so. I should be astonished to learn that he regards me as anything other than a dowdy schoolgirl!”
“Yes, I should be too,” agreed the Job’s comforter on the other side of the table.
Miss Charing swallowed another mouthful of punch. A gentle glow was spreading through her veins, dispelling the melancholy which had possessed her. It would have been too much to have said that she was restored to happiness, but she no longer despaired. A certain exhilaration infused her brain, which seemed all at once to be able quite easily to master difficulties that, a few minutes before, had appeared so insoluble. She sat bolt upright in her chair, staring straight ahead, the fingers of one hand tightening unconsciously round her tumbler. Mr. Standen,
Similar Books
