"Well, I don't know." Mrs. Perage again rubbed her nose thoughtfully. "As you may guess, Madoc always spoke ill of you, saying you were the true son of your wicked father, which was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I rather think. But, you see, Madoc hated the idea of your getting the property."
"He wanted Gwen to get it?"
"Not a bit. So long as you didn't succeed he would have been content to let an hospital have it. He cared nothing for his daughter, and being such a bad father she naturally disbelieved anything he said. Far from thinking you the rascal Madoc said you were, Gwen fancied that you were quite a nice agreeable young man, which you are. I think she would have welcomed Owain Evans just as kindly as she has welcomed Owain Hench. All the same, if you win her heart as a disguised prince the romance of it will appeal to her when she learns the delightful truth."
Hench laughed, feeling greatly relieved. "Mrs. Perage, I don't believe you are a Norse goddess. You are much too romantic."
"Perhaps, young man. I am an old fool."
"You are one of the most charming people I have ever met," said Hench warmly.
"Pooh!" retorted Mrs. Perage, pleased with the compliment. "Don't make love to me, or you'll break Gwen's heart."
"Has she a heart to break--on my account, that is?"
"Young man,"--Mrs. Perage rose until her head nearly touched the low ceiling, and she assumed her grand manner,--"you don't expect one woman to tell the secrets of another woman. All the same, a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. And you are blind, being in love."
"Am I in love?"