 be answered. I will have clear,
satisfactory replies. I am not to be trifled with. Silence!
    It is a strange and an extraordinary thing - a very singular - a most odd
thing! I thought all was right: knew no other: and there - the family are gone!«
    »I suppose, sir, they had a right to go.«
    »Sir Philip is gone!« (with emphasis).
    Shirley raised her brows: »Bon voyage!« said she.
    »This will not do: this must be altered, ma'am.«
    He drew his chair forward; he pushed it back; he looked perfectly incensed,
and perfectly helpless.
    »Come, come, now, uncle,« expostulated Shirley, »do not begin to fret and
fume, or we shall make no sense of the business. Ask me what you want to know: I
am as willing to come to an explanation as you: I promise you truthful replies.«
    »I want - I demand to know, Miss Keeldar, whether Sir Philip has made you an
offer?«
    »He has.«
    »You avow it?«
    »I avow it. But now, go on: consider that point settled.«
    »He made you an offer that night we dined at the Priory?«
    »It is enough to say that he made it. Go on.«
    »He proposed in the recess - in the room that used to be a picture-gallery -
that Sir Monckton converted into a saloon?«
    No answer.
    »You were both examining a cabinet: I saw it all: my sagacity was not at
fault - it never is. Subsequently, you received a letter from him. On what
subject - of what nature were the contents?«
    »No matter.«
    »Ma'am, is that the way in which you speak to me?«
    Shirley's foot tapped quick on the carpet.
    »There you sit, silent and sullen - you who promised truthful replies!«
    »Sir, I have answered you thus far: proceed.«
    »I should like to see that letter.«
    »You cannot see it.«
    »I must and shall, ma'am. I am your guardian.«
    »Having ceased to be a ward, I have no guardian.«
    »Ungrateful being! Reared by me as my own daughter -«
    »Once more, uncle, have the kindness to keep to the point. Let us both
remain cool. For my part, I do not wish to get
