“A man doesn’t ask his own kinsman more than a fair price, when the deal’s part of a family arrangement,” said Waldo. “May I speak to my father, and write you a proposal about it? And we’ll let the matter stand where it does till we know what he thinks and till you’ve had an opportunity of considering.”
“All right,” said I, and we walked on a little way in silence. Then I felt again the slight pressure on my arm. “Well, here’s where we’re staying. I promised to meet them at tea. Will you come in?”
I shook my head, murmuring something about business. He did not press the point. “We’re off again early to-morrow, and dining with some friends of Eunice’s to-night. See you again soon at Cragsfoot—we’re going to Briarmount. Good-by!”
But that was not quite his last word. He gave my arm a final squeeze; and he smiled again and again a little ruefully. “I rather think that, in his heart, the old pater would prefer what I’ve suggested even to our—to any other arrangement, Julius.”
It was quite as much as it was diplomatic to say about his father’s feelings on that point. Like the one which had been discussed by Godfrey and myself, it might be considered delicate.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE WINNING TICKET
THEN came the astonishing turn of fortune’s wheel—that is almost fact, scarcely metaphor—which seemed to transform the whole situation. It came to my knowledge on the very day on which those protracted labors of ours reached a conclusion at last.