Linda made no response to this. She scanned the road anxiously up and down.
There was another interim of silence; then:—
"Your father would be pleased, Linda," ventured King. "He said so."
"You hypnotize him. I said so. My father," she added with scorn,—"my father like me to marry a man who always disapproved of me?"
"Is that why you try to hate me?" asked King thoughtfully. "I have disapproved of you a good many times, but I do think that—considering everything—you've done very well."
Linda, the all-conquering, the leader, the criterion, turned upon the speaker a gaze of amazement; then she laughed.
"How kind! You overwhelm me."
"Yes, I do really think so. Considering your beauty, your strength, your easy finances, your college crushes, your empress-like reign, you've done pretty well to consider others as much as you have."
"Others?" the echo came crisply. "What others?"
"Your father mainly."