“Why, yes. But—”
“Well, would it work both ways? I mean, if I was to marry a girl who had a big social position in Granite, would it help me on, any?”
“I—should think so,” hesitated Caine, overcoming a desire to laugh at the unique idea. “Why? Are you thinking of it?”
“Not exactly thinkin’ of it, but turnin’ it over in my mind. If I was thinkin’ about it I’d do it. That’s my way.”
“Who is the lucky damsel?” bantered Caine, “Or haven’t you selected her yet?”
“I’ve about picked her out,” said Caleb slowly, “Just now she’s keepin’ comp’ny with another man.”
“Of course you won’t let that stand in your way for an instant?”
“No,” returned Caleb, on whom irony of any sort was ever lost, “Of course not. I have a way of gettin’ what I want. I only wish,” he continued with a half sigh of weariness, “that I could always keep on wantin’ what I get.”
Clive Standish ran into the room. From one of the servants he had heard of Caine’s arrival.
“What fun to find you before you go down!” he cried, “I was afraid you wouldn’t see me to-night and I knew you’d be disappointed. Aunt Lydia won’t let me sit up for the musicale, because I was bad last evening. And she’s made me learn a hymn called ‘I Know That God is Wroth With Me!’ besides. The hymn is signed ‘I. Watts.’ I think ‘I. Watts’ must have been a very sorrowful person. I wonder if God really disliked him as much as ‘I. Watts’ pretended. He—”