when he was in a position to support her, and independent of his adopted father,

they would break the news to him.

 

But to people like Ralph Paton, turning over a new leaf is easier in theory than

in practice. He hoped that his stepfather, whilst still in ignorance of the

marriage, might be persuaded to pay his debts and put him on his feet again. But

the revelation of the amount of Ralph’s liabilities merely enraged Roger

Ackroyd, and he refused to do anything at all. Some months passed, and then

Ralph was bidden once more to Fernly. Roger Ackroyd did not beat about the bush.

It was the desire of his heart that Ralph should marry Flora, and he put the

matter plainly before the young man.

 

And here it was that the innate weakness of Ralph Paton showed itself.

 

As always, he grasped at the easy, the immediate solution. As far as I could

make out, neither Flora nor Ralph made any pretence of love. It was, on both

sides, a business arrangement. Roger Ackroyd dictated his wishes—they agreed to

them. Flora accepted a chance of liberty, money, and an enlarged horizon, Ralph,

of course, was playing a different game. But he was in a very awkward hole

financially. He seized at the chance. His debts would be paid. He could start

again with a clean sheet. His was not a nature to envisage the future, but I

gather that he saw vaguely the engagement with Flora being broken off after a

decent interval had elapsed. Both Flora and he stipulated that it should be kept

a secret for the present. He was anxious to conceal it from Ursula. He felt

instinctively that her nature, strong and resolute, with an inherent distaste