“Until he loves,” repeated Beatrice.
Richmond was silent. He would not aggravate her unhappiness by telling her that Roger loved her.
“Is he still intending to go abroad?” she asked.
“To-morrow,” replied her father.
“To-morrow!” Beatrice started from her chair, an expression of wild disorder flashing into her face. But she fought for and regained control, sat back quietly with a calm, “Oh, I thought it was to be next week.”
“He has changed his plans.”
The daughter was looking at the father with scrutinizing eyes, full of doubt. He saw it, said in the tone that carried conviction, “I have come over to your side. He is a much bigger man than I thought—or than you know.”
“I know enough,” said the girl.
“At any rate, I wanted him for a son-in-law. I did my best. I haven’t anything he wants.”
“Nor I,” said Beatrice with a bitter, self-scorning laugh.