“I wonder,” said Cecil.
“What do you think, father?”
“I think you had better go to bed,” Simeon replied.
The chit rose and kissed him duteously.
“Good night,” she said. “Aren’t you glad the sea keeps so calm?”
“Why?”
“Can you ask? Mr. Vaux-Lowry crosses to-night, and he’s a dreadfully bad sailor. Come along, mother. Mr. Thorold, when mother and I return from Brussels, we shall expect to be taken for a cruise in the Claribel.”
Simeon sighed with relief upon the departure of his family and began a fresh cigar. On the whole, his day had been rather too domestic. He was quite pleased when Cecil, having apparently by accident broached the subject of the Dry Goods Trust, proceeded to exhibit a minute curiosity concerning the past, the present, and the future of the greatest of all the Rainshore enterprises.
“Are you thinking of coming in?” Simeon demanded at length, pricking up his ears.
“No,” said Cecil, “I’m thinking of going out. The fact is, I haven’t mentioned it before, but I’m ready to sell a very large block of shares.”