"That's conservative advice."
"As a small boy," said her father, "he was very delicate; but now he's as sound as a bell and he looks as strong as an elk."
Cynthia rose to her feet, trembling slightly.
"What was the matter with him—when he was delicate?"
"Consumption."
She became as it were taller—and vivid with beauty.
"Where is he?"
"In the library."
Cynthia put her hands on her father's shoulders.
"It's all right," she said; "his family has come into quite a lot of money. He doesn't know it yet. They're going to give him enough to marry on. You still think he ought to marry—don't you?"