“He used this as an argument to persuade you to marry him, Miss Wheeler?”
“I don’t put it that way, Mr. Stone, but I have Mr. Keefe’s assurance that he will do as I told you, and also that he will arrange to have a full and free pardon granted to my father for the old sentence he is still suffering under.”
“Well, Maida, I don’t wonder you consented,” said Miss Lane, her round eyes wide with surprise. “And I suppose he’s going to renounce all claim to this estate?”
“Yes,” said Maida, calmly.
“Anything else?” said Allen, unable to keep an ironic note out of his voice.
“Yes,” put in Fibsy, “he’s going to be governor of Massachusetts.”
“Oh, my heavens and earth!” gasped Genevieve, “what rubbish!”
“Rubbish, nothing!” Fibsy defended his statement. “You know he’s after it.”
“I felt sure he would, when Sam Appleby gave up the running—but—I didn’t know he had taken any public steps.”
“Never mind what Mr. Keefe is going to do, or not going to do,” said Maida, in a tone of finality, “I expect to marry him—and soon.”