"It isn't finished, I say," said Margaret gaily; "it is only the end of the first chapter, and is to be continued in our next. Shall I turn over the page?"
"Well, you are right, Margaret; it isn't finished. There's the other young lady to be brought into the story."
"The other young lady?" exclaimed Margaret. "Oh, the Don Juan!"
"You don't understand. I mean the young lady the father intends Gerald to marry. A young lady of fortune, with great family influence, and I don't know what all. But putting her out of the question----"
"Put her out, by all means. I'll see to that! young lady of fortune, indeed!"
"There is something still I have not told you. My old friend asked for my opinion as to whether he had acted rightly."
"Which opinion," interrupted Margaret eagerly and vivaciously, "you didn't give."
"I did, in one way. He put it to me in this fashion: 'Gerald,' he said, 'say that it was your daughter'--he was only putting a supposititious case, Margaret--'say it was your daughter my boy had fallen in love with or taken a fancy to, I am sure you would not allow her to receive his attentions against the wishes of his father; I am sure you would not allow her to marry him unless he obtained his father's consent.' Well, Margaret, knowing that all my old friend's hopes and aspirations are bound up in his boy, and knowing that my Lucy's happiness was not involved in this imaginary case (see how selfish we old fathers are, my dear!) I said that I certainly would not allow my daughter to marry his son without his consent."
Margaret threw up her arms in dismay. "You said that!" she cried.
"Yes, my dear. He rather pressed me for an answer, and I gave it in decided terms, to soothe him, for he was much agitated. What is the meaning of that expression in your face, Margaret? For Heaven's sake, don't torture me any longer with mystery!"