“Oh, yes, they are,” replied I. “Romantic love matches occur every day. Even royalty throws up its rights, to marry a chorus girl. But when there’s a fat American goose to pluck and eat, why, they pluck and eat it. I’m the goose, my dear—not you.”
“You don’t understand,” murmured Margot.
“I wish I didn’t,” said I. “And I wish you didn’t have to understand. If possible I want to arrange matters with him so that he’ll always treat you decently.”
“But, Godfrey,” cried Edna in a panic, “you can’t talk money to him.”
“Why not?” said I. “He’s thinking money. Why shouldn’t he talk it?”
“He knows nothing about those things, papa——”
I laughed.
“You’ll ruin everything!” cried my wife. “You’ll make us the laughingstock of Europe!”
“We Americans of the rich class are that already,” replied I.
Edna must have given her daughter some secret signal, for she abruptly and hastily left the room, closing the door behind her. I shrugged my shoulders, settled back on the exquisitely upholstered and carved sofa on which I had seated myself. Looking round I said, “This is a beautiful room. You’ve certainly arranged a fitting background for yourself and Margot.”