"
"Perhaps so," said Mollie, calmly. "Nevertheless, I shall never marry."
"Never?"
It was Sir Roger's despairing voice.
"Never, Sir Roger. I never was worthy of you. I would be the basest
of the base to marry you now. No; what I am to-night I will go to my
grave."
She stole a glance at Hugh Ingelow, but the sphinx was never more
unreadable than he. He caught her glance, however, and calmly spoke.
"And now, as Miss Mollie has had a fatiguing journey lately, and as she
needs rest, we had better allow her to retire. Good-night."
He had bowed and reached the door ere the voice of Carl Walraven
arrested him.
"This very unpleasant business, Mr. Ingelow--Sir Roger," he said, with
evident embarrassment, "in which Mrs. Walraven is concerned--"
"Will be as though it had never been, Mr. Walraven," Hugh Ingelow said,
gravely. "Once more--good-night."
He quitted the room.
Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old man.
Mollie shyly and wistfully held out her hand.
"Try and forget me, Sir Roger--try and forgive me. I have been a
foolish, flighty girl; I am sorry for it.
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