It was short, from the beginning--"I am so glad you have done
it," to the end of the postscript--"this is to-morrow, so good-bye."
There was not much to read; yet he looked at it for some time. Did
ever man receive such a refusal to an offer of marriage? It was almost
absurd, and perhaps hardly flattering, yet somehow characteristic of
the writer; Rawson-Clew recognised that now, though it had surprised
him none the less. What was to be done next? See the girl, he
supposed, and hear what she proposed to do; she wrote that she had
arranged "capitally," but she did not say what. He was quite certain
she was not going to remain with the Van Heigens; if by some
extraordinary accident she had been able to bring that about, she
would certainly have told him so triumphantly. He could not think of
anything "capital" she could have arranged; he was persuaded, either
that she only said it to reassure him, or else, if she believed it, it
was in her ignorance of the extent of the damage done yesterday. He
must go and see her, hear what she had planned, and what further
trouble she was thinking to get herself into, and prevent it in the
only way possible; and there was only one way, there was absolutely
no other solution of the difficulty; she must marry him, and there was
an end of it. He glanced at her refusal again, and liked it in spite
of its absurdity; after all, perhaps it would have been better if he
had been frank too; one could afford to dispense with the delicate
conventions that he associated with women in dealing with this girl.
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