"Have you the courage? Do you know each other?"
"Having known Cassandra so long, sir," began Ben, but was interrupted by Veronica's exclaiming, "We do not know each other at all. What is the use of making that futile attempt? I am over eighteen, and do you know me, father?"
"If I do not, it is because you have no shadow."
"Shall I, then?" giving Ben a delicious smile. "I promise."
"I promise, too, Veronica," heaven dawning in his eyes.
"We will see about it," said father. "Now who will go to the theater?"
We declined, but Ben signified his willingness to accompany him.
We took the first morning train, so that father could return before evening, and ran through in the course of an hour the wooden suburbs of Belem, bordered by an ancient marsh, from which the sea had long retired. Taking a cab, we turned into Norfolk Street, at the head of which, Ben said, a mile distant, was his father's house. It was not a cheerful street, and when we stopped before an immense square, three-storied house, it looked still more gloomy! There was a gate on one side, with white wooden urns on the posts, that shut off a paved courtway. On each side of the street were houses of the same pattern, with the same gates. Down the paved court of the opposite house a coach pulled by two fat horses clattered, and as the coach turned we saw two old ladies inside, highly dressed, bowing and smiling at Ben.
"The Miss Hiticutts—hundred thousand apiece."
"Hundred thousand apiece," I echoed in an anguish of admiration, which made my father laugh and Ben scowl. A servant in a linen jacket opened the door. "Is it yourself, Mr. Ben?"