“And for her part to me,” replied Martin Ball, “she says I’m still in her mind as a husband, but there’s a good bit to consider and I mustn’t name the thing again till she do.  In a word, she’s still tore in half between her father and me.  And I don’t like it too well, because, little though I know of love, I feel a screw’s loose somewhere still.”

Nelly looked at Martin, in doubt whether to tell him something more, or not.  But her woman’s mind decided to tell him.

“And another curious fact,” she said, “I do believe, at the bottom of his mind, which is deep as a well, her father’s torn in half between me and her also!”

His blue eyes goggled at that.

“God’s goodness!” he cried.  “He knows what love is surely—­even if she don’t.  You must be dreaming, woman.”

“No,” she answered.  “You don’t dream much at forty years old.  He thinks to hide it—­my John does—­so to call him.  But I see it very plain indeed.  He knows what amazing gifts his daughter have got, and he knows she’s vital to Wych Elm; but he don’t know what gifts I have got to put against ’em, and so I do believe that deep out of sight he’s weighing her parts against mine.”

“That ain’t love, however,” vowed Martin.

“’Tis one love weighed against another,” she told him.  “A man over fifty don’t love like a boy.”

“The depths of human nature!” cried Mr. Ball.  “I never thought that such things could be.  It looks to me, Mrs. Bascombe, as if—­However, I’m too loyal to say it.  But you do give one ideas.”

“Like father like daughter, I shouldn’t wonder,” she said thoughtfully.

“Just the same dark fear as was in my mind,” he confessed.

He left her then in a mizmaze of deep reflections; but he didn’t go until they’d ordained to meet again.  A considerable lot more of each other they did see afore the fateful month was done, and the more easily they came together because John Warner began to be very much occupied with Jane at this season.  The fourth week had very near sped and still she remained firm; while behind the scenes, when he did see her, John found no help from Nelly Bascombe.  In fact he marked that she’d got to grow rather impatient on the subject and didn’t appear to be so interested in her fate, or yet his, as formerly.

So things came to a climax mighty fast, and while Warner, who didn’t know what it was to be beat where his own comfort was concerned, kept on remorseless at Jane, she hardened her heart more and more against him and finally took the plunge and told Martin Ball as she’d wed when he pleased.  He hadn’t seen her much for ten days owing to press of business, and when she made up her mind, ’twas she had to write and bid him go walking with her.  But he agreed at once so to do and came at the appointed evening hour.  And then, afore she had time to speak, he cried out as he’d got a bit of cheerful news for her.

“And I’ve got a bit of cheerful news for you,” said Jane Warner, though not in a very cheerful tone of voice.  And then, in a dreary sort of way, she broke her decision.