Sylvia turned round, disgust in every line, and walked to the window. "I will find Dad," she said.
Preston looked after her, standing with legs wide apart on the hearth-rug. "It's none of my fault, I assure you," he said. "I've been tryin' to rope her for the last two years. But she's so damn' shy. Can't get near her, by George."
"Really?" smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "Perhaps you have not gone quite the right way to work. I think I shall have to take a hand in the game and see what I can do."
Preston bowed with his hand on his heart, "I always like to get the fair sex on my side whenever possible. If you can put the halter on her, you've only to name your price, madam, and it's yours."
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Ingleton. "You're very generous."
"I can afford to be," declared Preston. "She's a decent bit of goods—the only one I've ever wanted and couldn't get. If you can get the whip-hand of her and drive her my way—well, it'll be pretty good business for all concerned. You like diamonds, hey, madam?"
"Very much," laughed Mrs. Ingleton coquettishly. "But you mustn't make my husband jealous. Remember that now!"
Preston closed one eye deliberately and poked his tongue into his cheek. "You leave that to me, my good madam. Anythin' of that sort would be the gift of the bridegroom. See?"
"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Ingleton. "I shall certainly do my best for you, Mr. Preston."
"Good for you!" said Preston jocularly. "It's a deal then. And you play every trump you've got!"