"I do not know," said he. "I fear not. The Cavanagh blood is very obstinate, very obstinate indeed."
"Do you mean," cried Doris, "that they won't leave the house to be married? That they will go on living here in spite of these two young gentlemen who seem to be so fond of them?"
"I do," said he, with every appearance of truth. "I don't think anything but fire will ever drive them out of this house."
It was quietly said, almost mournfully, but it caused Doris to give a sudden start. Looking at him intently, she repeated "Fire?" and seemed to quake at the word, even while she rolled it like a sweet morsel under her tongue.
He nodded, but did not further press the subject. He had caught her look from the corner of his eye, and did not think it worth while to change his attitude of innocence.
"I wish," he insinuated, "there was another marriage which could take place."
"Another marriage?" she simpered.
"I have too much money for one to spend," said he. "I wish I knew of a good woman to share it."
Doris, before whose eyes the most dazzling dreams of wealth and consequence at once flashed, drooped her stout figure and endeavored to look languishing.
"If it were not for my duty to the young ladies," sighed she.