"Very well," he answered. At his disturbed, almost guilty expression Laura laughed a little and rose and came over and hugged him tight.
"Oh, but, father dearest—it's working out so splendidly! I want you to know him and see for yourself! We've come to live in New York for a while—he has more to do here about war supplies."
"More shrapnel, eh, machine guns. More wholesale death," her father growled. But Laura smiled good-naturedly.
"Yes, love, from America. Aren't you all ashamed of yourselves—scrambling so, to get rich quick—out of this war you disapprove of."
"You look a bit rich," her father retorted.
"Rather—for the moment," was her cheerful answer.
"And you still like living in Italy?"
"Tremendously! Rome is wonderful now!"
"Reborn, eh. Wings of the Eagles."
"Yes, and we're doing rather well."