Oh, please, 'tisn't
as if I was asking you to marry me. I wouldn't think of it. But you--couldn't
you take and live with me till Miss Right comes along? I'm only Miss Wrong, I
know, but I'd work my hands to the bare bone for you. And I'm not ugly to look
at. Say you will!"
Dick hardly recognised Torpenhow's voice in reply--"But look here. It's no use.
I'm liable to be ordered off anywhere at a minute's notice if a war breaks out.
At a minute's notice--dear."
"What does that matter? Until you go, then. Until you go. 'Tisn't much I'm
asking, and--you don't know how good I can cook." She had put an arm round his
neck and was drawing his head down.
"Until--I--go, then."
"Torp," said Dick, across the landing. He could hardly steady his voice.
"Come here a minute, old man. I'm in trouble"--
"Heaven send he'll listen to me!" There was something very like an oath from
Bessie's lips. She was afraid of Dick, and disappeared down the staircase in
panic, but it seemed an age before Torpenhow entered the studio. He went to the
mantelpiece, buried his head on his arms, and groaned like a wounded bull.
"What the devil right have you to interfere?" he said, at last.
"Who's interfering with which? Your own sense told you long ago you couldn't be
such a fool.
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