“Nothing at present!”
“You won’t try to find anything out?”
“I do not think that necessary. If the old gentleman’s suspicions were raised—if he has any reason for wishing to know more—he can very easily make inquiries.”
“And if he did; and if—if—somebody should want to have me?”
“I don’t think anybody could well come forward now with a stronger right than mine over you, Joan. And, remember, your twenty-first birthday is passed.”
Joan’s face lightened up.
“Oh, I am glad! I didn’t think of that. Then nobody could take me from you now, dear; dear father!”
“No, I do not think you could be forced away, my Joan,” he said. “And I could never ask or wish you to go—unless at the call of duty.”
“It never could be my duty to leave you for anybody—never!” said Joan emphatically.
“I cannot say, my dear. That will be as God chooses,” George Rutherford answered. And then he said wistfully—“Joan, don’t love me too much.”