“But—but, my dear Reed, you must be a millionaire!”
“I suppose so,” said Clive quietly.
“Then it will be impossible. My poor child could not marry so wealthy a man.”
“Then I must make myself poor,” said Clive. “Bah! what has money to do with it? Major Gurdon, I came down here to find rest and peace; let me find happiness as well, and that the world is not all base.”
“I hardly dare give consent,” faltered the Major. “You are the first, sir, who has ever approached her in this way, and I could not help seeing how day by day she has brightened and seemed to grow more restful and content. It has been as if she felt that with you near she could be at rest, that you were at hand to protect her, and that the poor old father was growing to be nobody now. Ah! Reed, she has ceased to care for me as she used.”
“Father!”
“You there, Dinah? You heard what we said?”
“I heard you tell Mr Reed something that you cannot mean.”
“You heard no more?”
“No, dear; but why?”