Jack smiled. What did the young man mean? Although he did not speak outright, his looks and words seemed to indicate that he thought Jack was interested in Miss Renville, and Jack had told Victor some things which led him to think that the young lady was more interested in his visit than either the young man or his father.
The night before Jack’s arrival at Buckholme, Mr. Thomas Glynne had informed his son that he wished to have a talk with him in the library after dinner.
Clarence had entered the apartment smoking a cigarette. His father was sitting at a beautifully carved and finely inlaid table.
“Throw that horrible-smelling thing away, Clarence. You know I detest cigarettes.”
“I know you do,” said Clarence, “but I like them. I never smoke during business hours and only one or two after dinner. I know it is a vice, but it is a mild one, and everybody is cognisant of it. There are men who have greater vices, but they conceal them from the public gaze. To oblige you, however, I will forego the pleasure it gives me,” and he threw it into the fireplace.
The father lost no time in bringing the subject he had in mind to his son’s attention.
“You know I am a business man, Clarence, and what I’ve got to say I say right out. I have said it before and to-night I am going to say it again. I want you to marry Bertha Renville.”
“There are only two objections to such a course,” said Clarence, coolly. “In the first place, I do not love her, and in the second place I am sure she would not have me if I did.”
“You love money, don’t you?” asked the father, sharply.
“Not for itself,” said Clarence. “I have no miserly instincts of which I am aware. I will acknowledge, however, that I love what money will buy.”