"I confess I don't follow you there," he complained. "If he doesn't—then I go to Singville."
"Wouldn't you rather?"
He raised himself stiffly into a sitting posture. "Would you?"
She did not hesitate in her reply. "Yes, papa. I would rather—if I were you."
"But since you're not me—since you are yourself—would you still rather that I went to Singville?"
There was a little lift to her chin, a faint color in her face as she replied: "I'd rather pay—however I did it. I'd rather pay—in any way—than ask some one else to do it."
He fell back on the cushion of violet brocade. "So would I—if I had only myself to think of. We're alike in that."
"Do you mean that you'd rather do it if it wasn't for me?"
"I've got to take everything into consideration. It's no use for me to make bad worse by refusing a good offer. I must try to make the best of a bad business for every one's sake. I don't want to take Davenant's money. It's about as pleasant for me as swallowing a knife. But I'd swallow a knife if we could only hush the thing up long enough for you to be married—and for me to settle some other things. I shouldn't care what happened after that. They might take me and chuck me into any hole they pleased."
"But I couldn't be married in that way, papa dear. I couldn't be married at all to—to one man—when another man had a claim on me."