"I mean it to be," replied Lady Wyke, serenely. "You see, it is just as well that you and I should understand one another." "I see no reason why we should. We are strangers," retorted Claudia, very much annoyed by the brazen impudence of the speaker. "Oh, I don't think we are strangers, Miss Lemby, seeing that you were on the eve of marrying my husband." "Well, I didn t marry him, and what is more, I never wished to marry him. It was my father's scheme to----" "To get money," interposed Lady Wyke, softly. "Didn't I say that he was shady, Miss Lemby? You, in a way, admit as much yourself." "I admit nothing"--Claudia rose abruptly to her feet--"and I really do not see, Lady Wyke, why you should force your company on me in this way." "There are many things you don't see, but will be made to see, my dear," said the elder woman, insolently. "I saw you leave the Rectory and followed you to this place so that I might talk to you quietly." "I see no reason why I should listen," shaffed Claudia, restlessly. "Oh, I think you will when I say what I have come to say," answered Lady Wyke. "To tell, you the truth I quite expected you to call and see me at Maranatha." "I never had the least idea of continuing our acquaintance," retorted the girl, pointedly. "Our last meeting in London did not make me long to meet you again, Lady Wyke. Your last words hinted----" "I shall talk about my hints on another occasion," interrupted the other in sharp tones. "Meanwhile I have sought you out to make you an offer." "Indeed?" Claudia was quite unmoved. "Yes. You are poor." "That is my own affair." "And your father is poor," continued Lady 'Wyke, taking no notice of the interruption. "You both want money. Your father, as I can see very well, is paying attentions to me in the hope that I may look favourably upon his advances." Claudia was persistently blind. "What advances?" "Well, if you will have it, my dear, your father has more than hinted that he desires to marry me. He could not get Sir Hector's money through you, so he is now trying to get it through me." "Is he? Well, Lady Wyke, with what my father says or does or thinks, I have nothing to do. If he wishes to marry you, and accept him, I have nothing to say. It is none of my business." "But as your father's daughter----" "Yes. I know all about that," flashed out the girl quickly, and with flushed cheeks; "but there is no more to be said." "There is this. That I do not intend to marry your father." "That is his and your affair. It has nothing to do with me. What have I to do with your intentions, Lady Wyke?" "You may guess," rejoined the woman, in silky tones, "when I tell you that I wish to marry Mr. Craver."