Sidney recognized that voice at least—the voice of a man who had worried him to death with his religious opinions—and his face lengthened.
"You here?"
"Yes, I have come again," he answered, drawing a chair close to the table, and confronting Sidney. "I suppose you thought that I had given you up as irreclaimable."
"I had hoped so," was the dry answer.
"Given my daughter up, too."
"No; that wasn't likely."
"Indeed—why not?"
"We don't give up our best friends, those who have won upon our hearts most, in a hurry."
"Do you mean that for me, or is that another side to your confounded obstinacy? Won't you give her up to me, her father?"
"If you wish it. I cannot set myself in opposition to you. The remembrance of a dear father of my own would not lead me, did I possess the power, to stand in opposition to you."