Mrs. Rushmore would not be thrown off the scent.
'My dear,' she said severely, 'he proposed to you on that bench. Don't
deny it.' 'Good gracious!' exclaimed Margaret, taken by surprise.
'Don't deny it,' repeated Mrs. Rushmore.
'I had only met him once before to-day,' said Margaret.
'It's all the same,' retorted Mrs. Rushmore with an approach to
asperity. 'He proposed to you. Don't deny it. I say, don't deny it.' 'I haven't denied it,' answered Margaret. 'I only hoped that you had
not noticed anything. He must be perfectly mad. Why in the world should
he want to marry me?' 'All Greeks,' said Mrs. Rushmore, 'are very designing.' Margaret smiled at the expression.
'I should have said that Monsieur Logotheti was hasty,' she answered.
'My dear,' said Mrs. Rushmore with conviction, 'this man is an
adventurer. You may say what you like, he is an adventurer. I am sure
that ruby he wears is worth at least twenty thousand dollars. You may
say what you like; I am sure of it.' 'But I don't say anything,' Margaret protested. 'I daresay it is.' 'I know it is,' retorted Mrs. Rushmore with cold emphasis. 'What
business has a man to wear such jewellery? He's an adventurer, and
nothing else.' 'He's one of the richest men in Paris for all that,' observed Margaret.
'There!' exclaimed Mrs. Rushmore. 'Now you're defending him! I told you
so!' 'I don't quite see----' 'Of course not. You're much too young to understand such things. The
wretch has designs on you. I don't care what you say, my dear, he has
designs.' In Mrs. Rushmore's estimation she could say nothing worse of any human
being than that.
'What sort of "designs"?' inquired Margaret, somewhat amused.
'In the first place, he wants to marry you. You admit that he does.
My dear Margaret, it's bad enough that you should talk in your
cold-blooded way of going on the stage, but that you should ever marry
a Greek! Good heavens, child! What do you think I am made of? And then
you ask me what designs the man has. It's not to be believed!' 'I must be very dull,' said Margaret in a patient tone, 'but I don't
understand.' 'I do,' retorted Mrs. Rushmore with severity, 'and that's enough!
Wasn't I your dear mother's best friend? Haven't I been a good friend
to you?' 'Indeed you have!' cried Margaret very gratefully.
'Well then,' explained Mrs. Rushmore, 'I don't see that there is
anything more to be said. It follows that the man is either an agent of
that wicked old Alvah Moon----' 'Why?' asked Margaret, opening her eyes.