"Now, Roger, I've listened to you long enough. If you've nothing better to do with your time than to talk about my daughter, I have. When you come back it will be time enough to inquire how far your father would approve of such an engagement."
"He himself urged it upon me the other day—but then I was in despair—I thought it was too late."
"And what means you are likely to have of maintaining a wife?—I always thought that point was passed too lightly over when you formed your hurried engagement to Cynthia. I'm not mercenary,—Molly has some money independently of me,—that she by the way knows nothing of,—not much;—and I can allow her something. But all these things must be left till your return."
"Then you sanction my attachment?"
"I don't know what you mean by sanctioning it. I can't help it. I suppose losing one's daughter is a necessary evil. Still"—seeing the disappointed expression on Roger's face—"it is but fair to you to say, I'd rather give my child,—my only child, remember!—to you, than to any man in the world!"
"Thank you!" said Roger, shaking hands with Mr. Gibson, almost against the will of the latter. "And I may see her, just once, before I go?"
"Decidedly not. There I come in as doctor as well as father. No!"
"But you will take a message, at any rate?"
"To my wife and to her conjointly. I will not separate them. I will not in the slightest way be a go-between."
"Very well," said Roger. "Tell them both as strongly as you can how I regret your prohibition. I see I must submit. But if I don't come back, I'll haunt you for having been so cruel."