“Amen,” said Dr. Lucian.
Uncle Alfred nodded his head slowly. “I hope that may be taken as it was meant,” he cryptically remarked. “How’s Rose?”
“She’s wonderful.”
“Rose is a good girl. She has her faults, but she’s a good girl. I’ve been sorry for Rose, over this business. It wasn’t her fault, the boy turning out like this. Don’t you let any one persuade her that it was, either.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“You can help it, all right. She thinks a lot of you, doctor.”
The doctor gazed into the fire.
“I wish,” said Uncle Alfred with sudden fretfulness, “that you’d take and marry her. I’ve never held with Paul on the subject of marriage. No doubt you remember his epistle on the subject? It reads to me like the writing of a disappointed man, you mark my words. People don’t lash out in that way for nothing. Marriage was ordained by God, Paul or no Paul.”
“You haven’t married yourself, Mr. Smith.”
“My loss was another man’s gain,” said Mr. Smith austerely. “And so you’ll find yours will be, my fine sir, if you don’t strike while the iron’s hot. Do you want Rose?”