“What are you going to do?” he broke forth suddenly one evening, when he found himself temporarily alone with her. “You are going to do something. I see it in your eyes.”
He had been for some time watching her from behind his newspaper, while she, with an unread book upon her lap, had, in fact, been thinking deeply and putting to herself serious questions.
Her answer made him stir rather uncomfortably.
“I am going to write to my father to ask him to come to England.”
So this was what she had been preparing to spring upon him. He laughed insolently.
“To ask him to come here?”
“With your permission.”
“With mine? Does an American father-in-law wait for permission?”
“Is there any practical reason why you should prefer that he should NOT come?”
He left his seat and walked over to her.