"You don't say!" pinching the ear nearest.
"This is the seventh day out, and not one of them has ceased to be interesting yet."
"Would they cease to be interesting if they proposed?" quizzing.
These two had no unshared secrets. They were sure of each other. He knew that when this child of his divided her affection with another man, that man would be deserving.
"I would rather have them all as they are. They make fine comrades."
He sighed thankfully. "Arthur seems to be out of the race."
"Rather say I am!" with laughter. "Why, a child could read Arthur
Cathewe's face when he looks at her. Isn't she simply beautiful?"
"Very. But there are types and types."
"Am I really pretty?" Sometimes she grew shy under her father's open admiration. She was afraid it was his love rather than his judgment that made her beautiful in his eyes.
"My child, there's more than one man who will agree with me when I say that there is no one to compare with you. You are the living quotation from Keats."