"
Maraquito looked down moodily. "He doesn't care for my
heart."
"What a stone he must be. Now I--upon my word I feel
inclined to marry and cut my nephew out of the title."
"Your nephew," stammered Maraquito, with a flash of her big
eyes.
"You know him well, he tells me," chatted Caranby garrulously,
"a handsome fellow is Cuthbert. I am sure the lady he is
engaged to thinks as much, and very rightly too."
"Miss Saxon!" cried Maraquito, breaking her fan and looking
furious.
"Ah!" said Caranby coolly, "you know her?"
"I know of her," said Maraquito bitterly. "Her brother Basil
comes here sometimes, and said his sister was engaged to--
but they will never marry--never!" she said vehemently.
"How can you tell that?"
"Because the mother objects to the match."
"Ah! And who told you so? Mr. Basil Saxon?"
"Yes. He does not approve of it either."
"I fear that will make little difference. Mallow is set on
the marriage. He loves Miss Saxon with all his heart."
Maraquito uttered a low cry of rage, but managed to control
herself with an effort. "Do you?" she asked.
Caranby shrugged his thin shoulders. "I am neutral. So long
as Cuthbert marries the woman he loves, I do not mind."
"And what about the woman who loves him?"
"Miss Saxon? Oh, I am sure--"
"I don't mean Miss Saxon, and he will never marry her--never.
You know that Mr. Mallow is poor. Miss Saxon has no money--"
"Pardon me.
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