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I must go now as I have an appointment to keep. Your father has asked me to lunch on Sunday and I have accepted. I hope you will pay me the compliment of being at home." The first of June fell on a Saturday that year, and a good many people remained in town for it in order to be present at the wedding of Lord Marchmont's only daughter to Hereford Wingarde, the millionaire.
"Can you manage to dine out with some of your people to-night?" he asked. "I am afraid I shall not be home till late." "You seem to have a great deal on your hands," she remarked coldly. "Yes," said Wingarde. It was quite obvious that he had no intention of taking her into his confidence, and Nina was stubbornly determined to betray no interest.
"Mr. Wingarde," she said nervously, "I I am afraid it is something you value." "It is," he said. "It belonged to my mother. In fact, it was her engagement ring. But why should you be afraid?" For the first time there was a note of softness in his voice. Nina's face was burning. "I would rather have something you do not care about," she said in a low tone. Instantly his face grew hard.
"You would probably put me to the trouble of calling you a liar if you did," he said, in a shaking voice. "I have no more intention than you have of mincing matters. As to listening to me, you shall do that in any case. I am going to tell you the truth, and I mean that you shall hear it." He strode to the door as he spoke, and locked it, pocketing the key. Wingarde did not stir to prevent him.
A fortnight of their honeymoon had passed away, when one morning Wingarde looked up with a frown from a letter. "I have had a summons to town," he said abruptly. Nina's heart leapt at the words, and her relief showed itself for one unmanageable second in her face. He saw it, and she knew he saw it.
He made no further enquiry, and they walked on in dead silence through exquisite scenery. They reached the wishing-gate, and the girl stopped almost involuntarily. "Is this the fateful spot?" said Wingarde, coming suddenly out of his reverie. "What is the usual thing to do? Cut our names on the gate-post? Rather a low-down game, I always think." She uttered a sudden, breathless laugh.
"You probably expect too much from it. Don't blame money for that." Nina uttered a tremulous laugh that sounded strangely passionate. "You're quite right," she said. "Money's not everything. I have weighed it in the balance and found it wanting." "Yes," Wingarde said in a peculiar tone. "And so have I." An overwhelming shyness possessed Nina that night.
"For something more serious," he said. "It's nothing to me what fool trick you may choose to play for your own amusement. But I am not going to swallow an insult from you or any man. I want an explanation for that." Wingarde stood with his back to the light and looked at him. "In what way have I insulted you?" he said.
"Having made up your mind to do something disagreeable, do you find shirking till the last moment makes it any easier any more palatable? Surely the sooner it's over " "It never will be over," she broke in passionately. "It is for all my life! Ah, what am I saying? Mr. Wingarde" she turned towards him, her face quivering painfully "be patient with me! I have given my promise."
I understand that Wingarde is lavish with his worldly goods. He certainly ought to be. He's a millionaire of the first water. A thousand or so distributed among his wife's relations would mean no more to him than the throwing of the crusts to the sparrows." He stopped to laugh lazily. "And the wife's relations would flock in swarms to the feast," he added in a cynical drawl.
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