'But you said you had accepted some offer.'

'You don't suppose I wrote the letter?'

'It was your handwriting, Felix.'

'Of course it was. I copied just what he put down. He'd have sent you clean away where I couldn't have got near you if I hadn't written it.'

'And you have accepted nothing?'

'Not at all. As it is, he owes me money. Is not that odd? I gave him a thousand pounds to buy shares, and I haven't got anything from him yet.' Sir Felix, no doubt, forgot the cheque for £200.

'Nobody ever does who gives papa money,' said the observant daughter.

'Don't they? Dear me! But I just wrote it because I thought anything better than a downright quarrel.'

'I wouldn't have written it, if it had been ever so.'

'It's no good scolding, Marie. I did it for the best. What do you think we'd best do now?' Marie looked at him, almost with scorn. Surely it was for him to propose and for her to yield. 'I wonder whether you're right about that money which you say is settled.'

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'I'm quite sure. Mamma told me in Paris,--just when we were coming away,--that it was done so that there might be something if things went wrong. And papa told me that he should want me to sign something from time to time; and of course I said I would. But of course I won't,--if I should have a husband of my own.' Felix walked along, pondering the matter, with his hands in his trousers pockets. He entertained those very fears which had latterly fallen upon Lord Nidderdale. There would be no 'cropper' which a man could 'come' so bad as would be his cropper were he to marry Marie Melmotte, and then find that he was not to have a shilling! And, were he now to run off with Marie, after having written that letter, the father would certainly not forgive him. This assurance of Marie's as to the settled money was too doubtful! The game to be played was too full of danger! And in that case he would certainly get neither his £800, nor the shares. And if he were true to Melmotte, Melmotte would probably supply him with ready money. But then there was the girl at his elbow, and he no more dared to tell her to her face that he meant to give her up, than he dared to tell Melmotte that he intended to stick to his engagement. Some half promise would be the only escape for the present. 'What are you thinking of, Felix?' she asked.




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