The sight of this dreadful deed threw Miss Paget into hysterics.  She shrieked that her nephew was cruel, ungrateful—­that he had never loved her, that he cared only for her money, and now that he grudged her the affection of a dog with which he had had nothing to do; that the dog’s dislike for him was a warning to her, and made her see him in his true light at last.  “Go—­go—­out of my sight—­or I’ll set my poor darling at you!” she cried, and Jack went, after saying several rather frank things.

At heart he was fond of his aunt, in spite of her eccentricities, and believed that she was of him, therefore he expected a letter of apology for her injustice and a request to come back.  But no such letter ever arrived.  Perhaps Miss Paget thought it was his place to apologize, and was waiting for him to do so.  In any case, they had never seen each other again; and after a few weeks, Jack received a formal note from his aunt’s solicitor saying that, as she realized now he had “no real affection for her or hers” he need look for no future advantages from her, but was at liberty to take up any line of business he chose.  Miss Paget would “no longer attempt to interfere with his wishes or direct his affairs.”

This must have been a pleasant letter for a penniless young man, just robbed of all his future prospects.  His own money gone, and no hope of any to put into a profession or business!  Jack lived as he could for some months, trying for all sorts of positions, making a few guineas by sketches and motoring articles for newspapers, and somehow contriving to keep out of debt.  He went to France to “write up” a great automobile race, as a special commission; but the paper which had given the commission—­a new one devoted to the interests of motoring—­suddenly failed.  Jack found himself stranded; advertised for a position as chauffeur, and got it.  There was the history which he “hadn’t inflicted on me before, lest I should be bored.”

He was interested to hear of Miss Paget’s journey to Italy, and knew all about the cousin who had died, leaving her money which she didn’t need, and a castle in Italy which she didn’t want.  He laughed when I told him how the redoubtable Simpkins refused to trust herself upon that “great nasty wet thing,” which was the Channel:  but nothing could hold his attention firmly except our affairs.  For his affairs and my affairs were not separate any longer.  They were joined together for weal or woe.  Whatever happened, however imprudent the step might be, he decided that we must be married.  We loved each other; each was the other’s world, and nothing must part us.  Besides, said Jack, I needed a protector.  I had no home, and he could not have me persecuted by creatures who produced Corn Plasters.  His idea was to take me to England at once, and have me there promptly made Mrs. John Dane, by special licence.  He had a few pounds, and a few things which he could sell would bring in a few more.  Then, with me for an incentive, he should get something to do that was worth doing.