"That's what I wanted to speak to you about. As I said before, it isn't fair that he should leave me in such a position. It's not as if I should have to work for my bread all the days of my life, like some poor devils. By and by I shall step into as pretty a place as you'll find anywhere, and why I should have to do compensation now by sitting on a high stool and addling my brain over ledgers is more than I can see. If he'd only say something definite one would know what one had to go upon. But--" "But what?" "O, you must understand, Marion, that I can't very well go to him and say this sort of thing!" "Why not?" "Why not? Well, women are queer about such matters, but I should think you might guess it's not the way to make yourself agreeable to an old fellow who has you in his power." "It is only justice," said Marion, whose cheek had flushed under the presence of an absorbing pity for Marmaduke which swept her away like a flood. "I wish I could tell him what I think." "You can do something better," said Marmaduke, seeing she had reached the point to which he had been leading. "What? Only tell me." "Get your father to interfere." She shook her head, moving her hands nervously. "You know he will not. He is so scrupulous about such matters. Over and over again I have heard him say he would never ask a favour of his uncle." "A favour! But I am not demanding an allowance of a thousand a year. All I want to know is how I stand. And if Mr Miles sees in black and white that I am his heir, he will no longer object to an engagement. I tell you plainly, I can't work unless I see some end before me. Besides, one must go step by step, and if he would acknowledge my position straightforwardly, by and by other things would follow. No one is so well entitled to ask as your father. Marion, you don't want to keep me in this misery?"