"My dear Gladys, you are perfectly well aware that the arrangement, as it stands at present, is that we are to be married on Monday. I was merely about to suggest that, as it would seem that this whole unfortunate affair is likely to prove too much, we should be married to-morrow instead, and then we shall be able to get out of this unpleasant atmosphere at the earliest possible moment." "Stop! stop!" She shouted at rather than spoke to him. "Perhaps I shall not be married to you at all." He stared at her in genuine amazement. "Gladys! What are you talking about? What do you mean?" "I don't know what I mean; I almost hope I never may know." "My dear child; that wretched man." "Have you ever seen him before?" "Seen whom?" "You know quite well. That--wretched man." "So far as I'm aware, never in my life. What makes you ask such a question?" "Are you sure? Do you swear it?" "How can a man swear to a thing like that? But I do swear that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, I have never seen him before." "Then how came it that he knew you so well?" "Knew me so well? Gladys! What are you dreaming about? Why, he never even addressed me by name." "No, I noticed that; but he addressed you all the same. Most of what he said was especially addressed to you, as if he knew that you would understand." "What are you driving at?" "What's more, he saw that I was afraid of you." "Afraid? You? Why, you could hardly have snuggled closer." "That was because I was afraid to let you know how afraid of you I was." "Gladys! Has that creature turned your brain?" "I--I don't know. Oh, if I could only say a few words to dad--if I only could!" "What would they be?" "I would--ask him--how--he died." "You have two stories offered for your choice. Are you content with neither?" "Rodney, if my father were standing here now, and his spirit may be, would you tell me, in his presence, that you don't know why he disliked you?" "Are you going into that all over again? To what end?" "What does that man know of you? What does he know?" "How can I tell what a half-witted man knows of me, or thinks he knows? Certainly he knows nothing to my discredit." "Rodney--don't." "Don't what?" "You know! You do know! I can see in your eyes you know! Please go!" "Sweetheart!" "Don't--speak to me--like that--now. Go!" "You surely are not in earnest. You cannot wish me to leave you before this extraordinary misunderstanding which has so inexplicably sprung up is cleared away. Tell me what is in your mind--frankly, all! I quite understand how this wretched man, Parker, may have turned your thoughts into unexpected currents and filled you with miserable doubts. I assure you he has upset me more than I care to tell you." "I know that he upset you! I felt you were upset when I was so close to you. I can see it now." If for the moment he was disconcerted--and the lady's manner was disconcerting--he slurred it over with creditable skill.