She sniffed before she could help it.
"You are right," he admitted, "even if it made you famous"—she was unmoved—"and me rich!"
She started slightly. She had never thought of the business end of his crusade. The motive is everything, in love as in murder.
"You are right," he pursued. "But, really, I am not bragging about it. But now I'm going to give free dinners. Millions are affected— I mean millions of dollars, not people. But I must have your help. Even your da—
"Sir!" began the loyal daughter, angrily.
"Dad, I was going to say, not damn, as you naturally assumed," he explained, with dignity. "Even dad is on the Mammoth Hunger Feast Commission. I put him on. When he sees I got the other bank presidents he'll stay on. But I'll tell you why I came to see you—"
"Uninvited," she frowned.
"Of course. I haven't asked for the latch-key. By the way, is this house big enough for the wedding reception?" he pondered, anxiously.
"It is—for mine," she said, pointedly. Then she wondered why she didn't order him away. The reason was that she couldn't. He wasn't that kind of man!
"That's good," he exclaimed with relief. "Well, I want you to sell tickets. You read about the tickets for the Mammoth Hunger Feast?"