“God bless me!” said John. “You don’t mean it, Alice?”
“I do mean it, and that you’ll find, John Jephson. I’m goin’ to bid you goodbye to-morrer.”
“Whoy, Alice!” exclaimed honest John, aghast.
“It’s truth I tell ye,” said Alice.
“And for how long?” gasped John, fore-feeling illimitable misfortune.
“That depends,” returned Alice, who did not care to lessen the effect of her communication by mentioning her promised return for a season. “—It ain’t likely,” she added, “as a heiress is a goin’ to act the nuss-maid much longer.”
“But Alice,” said John, “you don’t mean to say—it’s not in your mind now—it can’t be, Alice—you’re only jokin’ with me—”
“Indeed, and I’m not!” interjected Alice, with a sniff.
“I don’t mean that way, you know. What I mean is, you don’t mean as how this ’ere money—dang it all!—as how it’s to be all over between you and me?—You can’t mean that, Alice!” ended the poor fellow, with a choking in his throat.
It was very hard upon him! He must either look as if he wanted to share her money, or else as if he were ready to give her up.
“Arst yourself, John Jephson,” answered Alice, “whether it’s likely a young lady of fortun’ would be keepin’ company with a young man as didn’t know how to take off his hat to her in the park?”
Alice did not above half mean what she said: she wished mainly to enhance her own importance. At the same time she did mean it half, and that would have been enough for Jephson. He rose, grievously wounded.