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Page 7
"What have you against me?" asked Bryce calmly. "If, as you
say, you support her in her resolution not to listen to my
proposals, you must have something against me. What is it?"
"That's a question you've no right to put," replied Ransford,
"for it's utterly unnecessary. So I'm not going to answer it.
I've nothing against you as regards your work--nothing! I'm
willing to give you an excellent testimonial."
"Oh!" remarked Bryce quietly. "That means--you wish me to go
away?"
"I certainly think it would be best," said Ransford.
"In that case," continued Bryce, more coolly than ever, "I
shall certainly want to know what you have against me--or what
Miss Bewery has against me. Why am I objected to as a suitor?
You, at any rate, know who I am--you know that my father is of
our own profession, and a man of reputation and standing, and
that I myself came to you on high recommendation. Looked at
from my standpoint, I'm a thoroughly eligible young man. And
there's a point you forget--there's no mystery about me!"
Ransford turned sharply in his chair as he noticed the
emphasis which Bryce put on his last word.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"What I've just said," replied Bryce. "There's no mystery
attaching to me. Any question about me can be answered. Now,
you can't say that as regards your ward. That's a fact, Dr.
Ransford."
Ransford, in years gone by, had practised himself in the art
of restraining his temper--naturally a somewhat quick one.
And he made a strong effort in that direction now, recognizing
that there was something behind his assistant's last remark,
and that Bryce meant him to know it was there.
"I'll repeat what I've just said," he answered. "What do you
mean by that?"
"I hear things," said Bryce. "People will talk--even a doctor
can't refuse to hear what gossiping and garrulous patients
say. Since she came to you from school, a year ago,
Wrychester people have been much interested in Miss Bewery,
and in her brother, too. And there are a good many residents
of the Close--you know their nice, inquisitive ways!--who want
to know who the sister and brother really are--and what your
relationship is to them!"
"Confound their impudence!" growled Ransford.
"By all means," agreed Bryce. "And--for all I care--let them
be confounded, too. But if you imagine that the choice and
select coteries of a cathedral town, consisting mainly of the
relicts of deceased deans, canons, prebendaries and the like,
and of maiden aunts, elderly spinsters, and tea-table-haunting
curates, are free from gossip--why, you're a singularly
innocent person!"
"They'd better not begin gossiping about my affairs," said
Ransford. "Otherwise--"
"You can't stop them from gossiping about your affairs,"
interrupted Bryce cheerfully. "Of course they gossip about
your affairs; have gossiped about them; will continue to
gossip about them. It's human nature!"
"You've heard them?" asked Ransford, who was too vexed to keep
back his curiosity. "You yourself?"
"As you are aware, I am often asked out to tea," replied
Bryce, "and to garden-parties, and tennis-parties, and choice
and cosy functions patronized by curates and associated with
crumpets. I have heard--with these ears. I can even repeat
the sort of thing I have heard. 'That dear, delightful Miss
Bewery--what a charming girl! And that good-looking boy, her
brother--quite a dear! Now I wonder who they really are?
Wards of Dr. Ransford, of course! Really, how very romantic!
--and just a little--eh?--unusual? Such a comparatively young
man to have such a really charming girl as his ward! Can't be
more than forty-five himself, and she's twenty--how very, very
romantic! Really, one would think there ought to be a
chaperon!'"
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