"Only because Romeo got back at the wrong moment! Miss Driver, you say, was pleased?"
"Yes—oh, more than that! But for her I don't believe I could have done it. Still it's my own job—and I'm ready to face it. These things must be meant to come, Austin."
I glanced at the clock. He laughed reluctantly and nervously. "Give a fellow five minutes more!" he said.
"With pleasure. Spend it in thinking not of yourself, nor even of your father—but of Margaret."
"Yes, that's right," he said eagerly. "That's the thing to think about. That'll carry me through." He gave another unwilling laugh. "If he'd only be violent, or kick me out, or something of that sort—like the silly old fools in the plays! Not he! He'll behave perfectly, be very calm and very quiet—particularly civil about Margaret herself! He'll tell me I must judge for myself—just as he did about coming to Breysgate. And all the while he'll be breaking his heart." He smiled at me ruefully. "Aunt Sarah'll do the cursing—but who cares for that?"
"A good many people besides Lady Sarah will have a word to say, no doubt."
"I don't care a damn for the lot of them—except my father," he said—and I was glad to hear him say it. It expressed—vigorously—my own feelings in the matter. "And don't you think I'm the happiest man on earth?" he added a moment later.
"Earth's not heaven. Try to let Lord Fillingford see what you've shown me."
"What do you mean, Austin?"
"You don't mind my saying it? It's another of those things that one generally doesn't care to talk about. Try to show him that you love her very much, and that next in order—and not quite out of sight either—comes your father. Don't treat it casually—as if you were telling him you were going to dine out—though I daresay that's the etiquette. Try the open heart against the hidden one. You appreciate his case. Show him you do. That's my advice."