the match
with considerable vigour. It is not pleasant to be blown from one's own
petard, or even scathed in one's own peculiar tone of offence.

"I simply wanted to spare your feelings, my dear girl," was the
rejoinder, the last three words being thrown in for the special
irritation of Moya. "Not that I see how it can matter now."

The special irritant ceased to gall.

"Now!" echoed Moya. "What do you mean by now?"

"Why, the whole thing's off, of course."

"What whole thing?"

"Your late engagement."

"Oh, is it! Thanks for the news; it's the first I've heard of it."

"Then it won't be the last. You're not going to marry a convict's son,
or a convict either; and this fellow promises to be both."

"I shall marry exactly whom I like," said Moya, trembling.

"Don't flatter yourself! You may say so out of bravado, but you're the
last person to make a public spectacle of yourself; especially
when--well, you know, to put it brutally, this is pretty well bound to
ruin him, whatever else it does or does not. Besides, you don't like him
any more; you've stopped even thinking you do. Do you suppose I've got
no eyes?"

"Theodore," said Moya in a low voice, "if I were your wife I'd murder
you!"

"Oh, no, you wouldn't; and meanwhile don't talk greater rot than you can
help, Moya. Believe me it isn't either the time or the place. We must
get out of the place, by the way, the first thing to-morrow. I see
you're still wearing his ring. The sooner you take that off and give it
to me to return to him the better."

"It will come to that," said Moya's heart; "but not through Theodore;
no, thank you!"

"It shall never come to it at all!" replied her heart of hearts.

And her lips echoed the "Never!" as she marched to the door. Theodore
had his foot against it in time.

"Now listen to me! No, you're not going till you listen to reason and
me! You may call me a brute till you're black in the face. I don't mind
being one for your own good. This thing's coming to an end; in fact it's
come; it ought never to have begun, but I tell you it's over. The family
were always agreed about it, and I'm practically the head of the family;
at all events I'm acting head up here, and I tell you this thing's over
whether you like it or not. But you like it. What's the good of
pretending you don't? But whether you do or you don't you shall never
marry the fellow! And now you know it you may go if you like. Only do
for God's sake be ready