"Much obliged. You have been a good aid. As you know, I am writing this rubbish only because it is play and passable mental exercise."
"I do not agree with you there," returned the secretary, with his pleasant smile. "The book will be really a treasure of itself. It is far more interesting than any romance."
The admiral shook his head dubiously.
"No, no," Breitmann averred. "There is no flattery in what I say. Flattery was not in our agreement. And," with a slight lift of the jaw, "I never say what I do not honestly mean. It will be a good book, and I am proud to have had a hand, however light, in the making."
The admiral chuckled. "That is the kind of flattery no man may shut his ears to. It has been a great pleasure to me; it has kept me out-of-doors, in the open, where I belong. Come in, Laura, come in."
The girl stood framed in the low doorway, a charming picture to the old man and a lovely one to the secretary. She balanced herself with a hand on each side of the jam.
"Father, how can you work when the sun is so beautiful outside? Good morning, Mr. Breitmann," cordially.
"Good morning."
"Work is over, Laura. Come in." The admiral reached forth an arm and caught her, drawing her gently in and finally to his breast.
Breitmann would have given an eye for that right. The picture set his nerves twitching.