"Oh, he was a handsome
young beggar she met five years ago--the son of my then bailiff, as
a matter of fact. The boy had had a fairly decent education; he
was a gentleman, but he wasn't good enough for my Sylvia, had no
prospects of any sort. And so I put my foot down."
Mrs. Ingleton smiled with her thin, hard lips, but no gleam of
humour reached her eyes. "With the result, I suppose, that she has
been carrying on with him ever since."
Ingleton stirred uneasily in his chair. "Well, she hasn't given
him up. They correspond, I believe. But he is far enough away at
present. He is in South Africa. She'll never marry him with my
approval. I'm pretty certain now that the fellow is a rotter."
"She probably deems herself very heroic for sticking to him in
spite of opposition," observed Mrs. Ingleton.
"Very likely," he conceded. "But I think she genuinely cares for
him. That's just the mischief of it. And, unfortunately, in
another couple of years she'll be in a position to please herself.
She inherits a little money from her mother then."
Mrs. Ingleton's smile became more pronounced, revealing her strong
white teeth behind. "You need not look forward so far as that, my
love," she said. "Leave Sylvia entirely to me! I will undertake,
as I said, to have her married to Mr. Preston well within a year.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34