"And Kingsley?" she asked. "He will also come?"
"We shall see, we shall see," said Mr. Loveday, fretfully. "He and I have much to say to each other."
"But I shall expect him," she said, kissing her father; then, with a bright look at Kingsley, she departed.
"It was the only way to get rid of her," said Mr. Loveday, with a look of displeasure at the young man. "Even a father is compelled sometimes to practise deceit in his dealings with his children."
The implied accusation in this remark was acknowledged by Kingsley in silence. Impulsive and wayward as he was, he was apt to resent an imputation reflecting upon his honor.
"But then," continued Mr. Loveday, "a father is often justified in his deceit, especially in such a case as this, when he has to deal with a young and inexperienced girl."
His manner was as unfortunate as his matter, and it was impossible to mistake his meaning; but Kingsley exhibited no resentment.
"You are bringing an accusation against me, sir," he said. "The least you can do is to set it forth in plain terms."
"I will do so. Were I disposed to be lenient--which I am not, because the welfare of my daughter is too near to my heart--I should call your conduct rash and inconsiderate. As it is, I have no hesitation in declaring it to be criminal."
"I am glad Nansie is not present to hear you, sir."