"You've probably heard that I'm not Evie's guardian," Wayne interposed. "I've no control at all over what she does."
"I understand that; but to me there's an authority above the legal one—or at least on a level with it—and I should be unhappy—we should both be unhappy—if we didn't have your consent."
Wayne looked pleased. He was so rarely consulted in the affairs of the family, especially since his affliction had forced him aside, that this deference was a clew to the young man's character. Nevertheless, he allowed some seconds to pass in silence, while Ford threw at Miriam a glance of defiance, in which there was also an expression of audacious friendliness. She sat rigid and pale, her hands clinching the arms of her chair.
"It's a serious matter—of course," Wayne said, after becoming hesitation; "but I've great confidence in Henry Jarrott. Next to Evie herself, he's the person most concerned—in a certain way. I'm told he thinks well of you—"
"He ought to know," Ford broke in, confidently. "I've nothing to show in the way of passports, except myself and my work. I've been with him ever since I went to South America, and he's been extremely kind to me. The only certificate of character I can offer is one from him."
"That's sufficient. We should be sorry to let Evie go, shouldn't we, Miriam? She's a sweet child, and very much like her dear mother. But, as you say, it was bound to happen one day or another; and we can only be glad that—I'm happy to congratulate you, Mr. Strange. Your name, at any rate, is a familiar one. It's that of an old boyhood's friend of mine, who showed me the honor of placing this young lady in my charge. We called him Harry. His full name was Herbert Harrington, but he dropped the first. You seem to have taken it up—it's odd, isn't it, Miriam?—and I take it as a happy omen."
"Thank you." Ford rose, and made the blind man understand that he was holding out his hand, "I shall be more satisfied now for having told you."
Miriam accompanied him into the hall, on pretext of ringing for the lift.
"Oh, why did you do that?" she protested. "Don't you see that it only makes things more complicated than they were already?"
"It's my first move," he laughed, with friendly bravado. "Now you can make yours."