‘No,’ replied Sir Richard.
‘But you must!’ declared Miss Creed, on a note of panic. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I cannot walk about the streets all night. We had better repair to my house to discuss this matter.’
‘No!’ said Miss Creed, standing stock-still in the middle of the pavement.
Sir Richard sighed. ‘Rid yourself of the notion that I cherish any villainous designs upon your person,’ he said. ‘I imagine I might well be your father. How old are you?’
‘I am turned seventeen.’
‘Well, I am nearly thirty,’ said Sir Richard.
Miss Creed worked this out. ‘You couldn’t possibly be my father!’
‘I am far too drunk to solve arithmetical problems. Let it suffice that I have not the slightest intention of making love to you.’
‘Well, then, I don’t mind accompanying you,’ said Miss Creed handsomely. ‘Are you really drunk?’
‘Vilely,’ said Sir Richard.
‘No one would credit it, I assure you. You carry your wine very well.’
‘You speak as one with experience in these matters,’ said Sir Richard.
‘My father was used to say that it was most important to see how a man behaved when in his cups. My cousin becomes excessively silly.’
‘You know,’ said Sir Richard, knitting his brows, ‘the more I hear of this cousin of yours the more I feel you should not be allowed to marry him. Where are we now?’
‘Piccadilly, I think,’ replied Miss Creed.
‘Good! I live in St James’s Square. Why do they want you to marry your cousin?’
‘Because,’ said Miss Creed mournfully, ‘I am cursed with a large fortune!’
Sir Richard halted in the middle of the road. ‘Cursed with a large fortune?’ he repeated.
‘Yes, indeed. You see, my father had no other children, and I believe I am most fabulously wealthy, besides having a house in Somerset, which they won’t let me live in. When he died I had to live with Aunt Almeria. I was only twelve years old, you see. And now she is persecuting me to marry my cousin Frederick. So I ran away.’
‘The man with a face like a fish?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did quite right,’ said Sir Richard.
‘Well, I think I did.’
‘Not a doubt of it. Why Holborn?’
‘I told you,’ replied Miss Creed patiently. ‘I am going to get on the Bristol coach.’
‘Oh! Why Bristol?’
‘Well, I’m not going to Bristol precisely, but my house is in Somerset, and I have a very great friend there. I haven’t seen him for nearly five years, but we used to play together, and we pricked our fingers – mixing the blood, you know – and we made a vow to marry one another when we were grownup.’
‘This is all very romantic,’ commented Sir Richard.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ said Miss Creed enthusiastically. ‘You are not married, are you?’
