“It seems to me that needs an explanation.”
“Then I’ll try to give you one. You have given me many things for which I’m grateful, and now that you have bought me the sawmill, I’ll do the best I can with it. I’ve allowed you to choose my career; but I think I’m justified in choosing my wife myself.”
“You’re young,” laughed Clay, “or you’d have learned that it’s very seldom a man with red blood chooses his wife; in fact, it much oftener happens the other way about. He meets her and that settles him. If you’d been capable of going round with a list of qualifications looking for a girl who could satisfy them, you’d be no son of mine. However, I’m not dictating what you call your choice. I don’t object to it; that’s all.”
“It’s enough. How would you get Miss Osborne if I gave you permission?”
Though the question was awkward, Clay smiled. The boy was shrewder than he thought.
“Oh,” he said, “I have some influence with Osborne. He owes me several favors.”
“A man wouldn’t give up his daughter in return for a favor. What is your hold on him?”
“I don’t see much reason why you should know.”
“You may be right.” Aynsley’s tone was determined as he continued: “Let’s try to understand each other. If Miss Osborne marries me because that’s her wish, I’ll be a very fortunate man; but it’s unthinkable that she should be forced to do so. I can’t have any pressure put upon her father.”
“When I want a thing, I get after it the best way I can.”