The Nonesuch

“You won’t reach London. Who’s to pay the first postboys? Who’s to pay for the changes of teams? If it comes to that, who’s to pay for your lodging on the road? It’s close on two hundred miles to London, you know—at least, I collect you don’t know! What’s more, you can’t put up at a posting-house, travelling all by yourself! I shouldn’t wonder at it if they refused to take you in. Well, I mean to say, who ever heard of such a thing? Now, do but consider, Miss Wield! You can’t do such a jingle-brained thing: take my word for it!”

“Do you care what people may say?” Tiffany asked scornfully.

“Yes,” he answered.

“How paltry! I don’t!”

“I daresay you don’t. You’re too young to know what you’re talking about. If you’re so set on going to London, you ask Miss Trent to take you there!”

“Oh, how stupid you are!” she cried passionately. “She wouldn’t do it!”

“Well, that quite settles it!” said Laurence. “You drink your lemonade, like a good girl, and I’ll drive you back to Staples. No need to tell anyone where we’ve been: just say we went farther than we intended!”

Curbing the impulse to throw the lemonade in his face, Tiffany said winningly: “I know you couldn’t be cruel enough to take me back to Staples. I had rather die than go back! Go with me to London! We could pretend we were married, couldn’t we? That would make everything right!”

“You know,” said Laurence severely, “you’ve got the most ramshackle notions of anyone I ever met! No, it would not make everything right!”

She looked provocatively at him, under her lashes. “What if I did marry you? Perhaps I will!”

“Yes, and perhaps you won’t!” he retorted. “Of all the outrageous—”‘

“I am very rich, you know! My cousin says that’s why you dangle after me!”

“Oh, does he? Well, you may tell your precious cousin, with my compliments, that I ain’t such a gudgeon as to run off with a girl who won’t come into her inheritance for four years!” said Laurence, much incensed. “Yes, and another thing! I wouldn’t do it if you was of age! For one thing, I don’t wish to marry you; and, for another, I ain’t a dashed hedge-bird, and I wouldn’t run a rig like that even if I were all to pieces!”

“Don’t wish to marry me?” Tiffany gasped, and suddenly burst into tears.

Horrified, Laurence said: “Not a marrying man! If I were—Oh, lord! For God’s sake, don’t cry! I didn’t mean—that is, any number of men wish to marry you! Shouldn’t wonder at it if you became a duchess! I assure you—most beautiful girl I ever set eyes on!”

“Nobody wants to marry me!” sobbed Tiffany.

“Mickleby! Ash! Young Banningham!” uttered Laurence.

“Those!”Tiffany said, with loathing. “Besides, they don’t! I wish I were dead!”

“You’re above their touch!” said Laurence desperately. “Above mine too! You’ll marry into the Peerage—see if you don’t! But not,”he added, “if you go beyond the line!”

“I don’t care! I want to go to London, and I will go to London! If you won’t escort me, will you lend me the money for the journey?”

“No—Good God, no! Besides, I haven’t got it! And even if I had I wouldn’t lend it to you!” Strong indignation rose in his breast. “What do you suppose my cousin Waldo would have to say to me if I was to do anything so cock-brained as to send you off to London in a post-chaise-and-four, with nothing but a dashed bandbox, and not so much as an abigail to take care of you?”

“Sir Waldo?” Tiffany said, her tears arrested. “Do you think he would be vexed?”

“Vexed! Tear me in pieces! What’s more,” said Laurence fairly, “I wouldn’t blame him! A nice mess I should be in! No, I thank you!”

“Very well!” said Tiffany tragically. “Leave me!”

“I do wish,” said Laurence, eyeing her with a patent want of admiration, “that you wouldn’t talk in that totty-headed fashion! Anyone would think you was regularly dicked in the nob! Leave you, indeed! A pretty figure I should cut!”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s no matter to me! If you choose to be disobliging—”

“It may not be any matter to you, but it is to me!” interrupted Laurence. “Seems to me nothing matters to you but yourself!”

“Well, it seems to me that nothing matters to you but yourself!” flashed Tiffany. “Go away! Go away, go away, go away!”