Clytie evinced a mild interest in his remarks, smiled gently at his familiar vagaries, answering when replies should be forthcoming, in her low, even, monotonously pitched tones. She questioned him perfunctorily about the book he was writing, an absorbing avocation with him, warding off his usual disappointment at her lack of sympathy by involving herself in a conversational web of explanation regarding Foreign Trade Expansion, Reciprocal Profits and The Open Door in the Orient.
"There's not much use working on it at the office," he concluded. "I'm too liable to interruptions."
"Who interrupted you to-day?" she asked.
"Oh, there was a queer chap in this afternoon, an insurance solicitor; Wooley, his name was. I told him I didn't want an accident policy, but I happened to tell him about that time on the Oakland Mole, when I got caught between two trains in the Fourth of July crush—you remember? and he told me about all the narrow escapes he ever heard of, trying to get me to go into his company. Funny dog he was. He kept me laughing and talking with him for an hour. Then Blanchard came in. He says he's coming around to-night." He hesitated and scanned her intently through his gold-bowed glasses, under his bushy brows. "I hope you will treat him well, Cly."
Her face grew serious and her sensitive lips quivered, as she said:
"Why do you like Mr. Cayley so much, father?"
"Why, he's a very intelligent fellow, Cly; I don't know of another young man of his age who is really worth talking to. He knows things. He has a broad outlook and a serious mind. He's the kind of young man we need to take hold of political and commercial reform. I tell you, the country is going to the dogs for lack of men who are interested in anything outside of their own petty concerns. Why, he's the only one I know who really seems interested in oriental trade and all its development means to the Pacific slope. That's remarkable, considering he isn't himself connected with any commercial enterprise. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him to discuss my subject with. He seems to be genuinely interested in it. I wish you were as much so, Cly!"
Clytie turned away, smiling somewhat ironically, an uncommon expression for her engaging features.
"You know," she said slowly, "that I don't quite trust him."
"Why, you two have been friends long enough, you should know him better by this time. You're intimate enough with him."