“But people here must have some assurance that new families are acceptable——”
“Don’t worry about that, either. We’ll do, I guess. And when I want to go anywhere, or want my family to go anywhere, I ask, that’s all. The women don’t run New York society. They only think they do. If there’s any house you want to go to or any people you want to come to see us, you tell me about it. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, but my way is the quickest. I’m not going to have you hanging on the outer fringe. You can be the jewel and the ornament of the year. Even Mrs. Suydam will take you under her wing, if you want her to.”
“But I don’t want to be under any one’s wing. I might turn out to be the ugly duckling.”
He pressed her fondly in his great arms. “You are—a duckling—it’s a pity you’re so ugly.” He laughed at his joke and broke off and seized the glass from her fingers.
“Jane,” he cried, “you didn’t find the woman inside the farmhouse! And the jug on the bench beside——”
But Miss Loring’s thoughts were elsewhere.
“Daddy, I don’t want people to come to see me, unless I like them,” she went on slowly, “and I don’t want to go to peoples’ houses just because they’re fashionable houses. I want to choose my friends for myself.”
“You shall!” he muttered, laying down his glass with a sigh and putting his arm around her again. And then with a lowered voice, “You haven’t seen anybody you—you really like yet, daughter, have you?”
“No,” said Miss Loring, with a positiveness which startled him. “No one—not a soul.”
“Not Coleman Van Duyn——”