‘You remember telling me, when I was one and twenty, that you wished me to work my way up, and win an income of my own, but that I could look to you for help, if ever there was need of it—?’
Yes, Stephen remembered. He had frequently called it to mind, and wondered whether it was wisely said, the youth’s character considered.
‘What of that?’ he returned, still genially. ‘Do you think of starting a new line of ocean steamships?’
‘Well, not just yet,’ Horace answered, with an uncertain laugh. ‘I have something more moderate in view. I may start a competition with the P. and O. presently.’
‘Let’s hear about it.’
‘I dare say it will surprise you a little. The fact is, I—I am thinking of getting married.’
The father did not move, but smoke ceased to issue from his lips, and his eyes, fixed upon Horace, widened a little in puzzled amusement.
‘Thinking of it, are you?’ he said, in an undertone, as one speaks of some trifle. ‘No harm in thinking. Too many people do it without thinking at all.’
‘I’m not one of that kind,’ said Horace, with an air of maturity which was meant to rebuke his father’s jest. ‘I know what I’m about. I’ve thought it over thoroughly. You don’t think it too soon, I hope?’
Horace’s pipe was going out; he held it against his knee and regarded it with unconscious eyes.