“It’s all right now. Nobody can hear us up here.” And again he shook hands with Felix. “You look done up,” he said.
“I walked from the station,” said Felix, “and I fell down in your back yard.” He laughed. “I look like a disreputable character—I wonder what Rose-Ann’s brothers would say if they saw me now!”
“Sit down,” said Rose-Ann’s father, and pulled up a chair in front of his own. “Have a cigar? You’ll find it more restful than those cigarettes of yours. Try this one.”
“Thanks,” said Felix.
Rose-Ann’s father threw away his gnawed unlighted cigar and took another. They lighted up, and smoked for a moment in silence.
“So you came to see me...,” said Rose-Ann’s father. “I was thinking about coming up to Chicago to see you....”
“I suppose,” said Felix, “that you know what the situation is?”
“Mm—yes.... Rose-Ann never tells me anything. I have to be a mind-reader. But usually I can figure out what’s going on. When she was here this time it wasn’t hard to guess what the trouble was.”
“I suppose not,” said Felix. “It must seem simple enough to any one on the outside....”
“And then,” said Mr. Prentiss with a guilty look, “I’ve a habit of getting into correspondence with some of Rose-Ann’s friends. They drop a bit of news now and then.... I used to have quite a correspondence with Will Blake at the Community House. That is why I wasn’t so surprised when I heard you two were married.... And lately I’ve been writing to Clive Bangs—very interesting young man: He tells me about a novel he’s writing; and sometimes he puts in a word or two about Rose-Ann; not very much, but then I know Rose-Ann; so I can figure things out.... I had a letter from him today....”