But the trend of Ferdie’s ideas had always run on generalizations ... and generalizations would not suffice now to content this daughter of his, turning up to him such a glowing, inquisitive little face.
“I was pleased that you should have admirers——” slowly—“Flirtation is only natural to a young girl.”
“Admirers! flirtation! that, yes, but they—they used to kiss us—they said things—when they got excited.... They—Oh——” she rummaged desperately after words—“You—you grown-ups of to-day, you took away the chaperon and put up a screen on the landing instead.—It all means something—leads somewhere—and then you lose your tempers when you hear—when we.... And I didn’t! I didn’t do anything—this time.... But I must have something to go by; you must spell us out the rules once and for all. You’re broad-minded, you encourage us—expose us; and at the end of it all, last century’s row comes tumbling on our heads. If grandfather was a beast to Auntie Stel——” a darted sun-flash of mischief at the gathering storm on the opposite side of the fireplace—“at least he was a consistent beast; allowed her to know nothing and do nothing. You’ve stuck half-way—you let me know everything and do nothing. One day, I suppose, a girl will be allowed to know everything and do everything—lucky her!”
The storm on the opposite side of the mantelpiece broke into thunder: “Klatsch! klatsch! klatsch! talk! talk! talk!—Had it been Stella to be found out in shame——”
“Leave me out of it, papa. And you too, Deb,” Stella threw in curtly, without turning from the window where she stood looking out into the dripping dusk. “I’m not ambitious to figure as an edifying example.”
“Had it been Stella,” Hermann persisted, not in the least heeding her protest, “My first business, as her father, would be interview the young man and see to it that he is made aware of his immediate duty towards her. But that, of course, does not strike Ferdinand. He prefers to sit like an old maid at a tea-party and discuss the so happy occasion!”
Ferdie, rather dazed, passed a hand across his forehead, wet with perspiration. “True—yes—I must see him at once,” he muttered. For a few moments he had forgotten the indestructible fact of Deb’s dishonour.
“See—Cliffe? Ask him to marry me? Dad—dad, you can’t.... He’d laugh ... they’d all laugh. It—it isn’t done, in our set. We—I’ve told you—I thought you believed me—no earthly possible reason why he should marry me. That night at the cottage ... dad, I’ve told you—there was nothing. You mustn’t go to Cliffe,” in a sheer panic at the ridiculous situation thus threatened, she scrambled up from her knees, and confronted Ferdinand, also on his feet by now—“You shan’t go to Cliffe. There was nothing!” she repeated doggedly. “Don’t you believe me?”
“You did stop at his cottage that night—alone with him?” The Inquisition commenced anew.
“Yes.”