Her father's eyes lit with an eager sparkle. “Well,” he said quickly.
“I reminded him that I had known him only a few weeks, and that I wanted time to consider.”
“Consider! Why, Clemmy, he's one of the oldest Boston families, rich from his father and grandfather—rich when I was a shopkeeper and your mother”—
“I thought you liked Grant?” she said quietly.
“Yes, but if YOU have no choice nor feeling in the matter, why Shipley is far the better man. And if any of the scandal should come to his ears”—
“So much the better that the hesitation should come from me. But if you think it better, I can sit down here and write to him at once declining the offer.” She moved towards the desk.
“No! No! I did not mean that,” said Harcourt quickly. “I only thought that if he did hear anything it might be said that he had backed out.”
“His sister knows of his offer, and though she don't like it nor me, she will not deny the fact. By the way, you remember when she was lost that day on the road to San Mateo?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she was with your son, John Milton, all the time, and they lunched together at Crystal Spring. It came out quite accidentally through the hotel-keeper.”