"Do you love him?" he interrupted.
Grace hesitated. She had to in order to be honest.
"I—I don't know," she answered, finally.
"Great Scott! Do you mean to say you don't know that?"
"No; I don't," she replied, tartly.
She thought of H. R., of all he had done, of all he had said to her, of all he might yet do. And then she thought of the way H. R. had been taken up by the people at whose homes she dined and danced. She shook her head dubiously.
"Well, finish!" said her father, impatiently.
"He makes people do what he wants them to," she said, slowly; "though he says he will do what I wish him to do, and—"
"Can you make him do what he doesn't want to do?" challenged her father, with his first gleam of sense.
She thought of H. R.'s love of her.