“Of course he would be,” said Mr Penwynn, as if to himself. “What’s this alarming earthquake in Peru? Ah! they’re always having earthquakes in Peru; but it’s a fine mining country.”
“Papa, you are not paying any attention to what I say,” cried Rhoda. “What do you mean about Mr Tregenna?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear,” said Mr Penwynn, re-adjusting the gold-rimmed glasses upon his nose. “Some nonsense of his. He declares that he is terribly smitten with you.”
“Papa!”
“And that he can never be happy without you.”
“Papa!”
“And I told him he had better come and talk to you himself.”
“You told him that, papa?” said Rhoda, pushing back her chair.
“To be sure, my dear,” said Mr Penwynn, rustling the newspaper in the most unruffled way. “Of course it is all nonsense.”
“Nonsense, papa? You know Mr Tregenna is not a man who talks nonsense.”