“Did it not by chance precede your first meeting?” the Doctor asked.
Morris looked at him an instant. “I certainly had already heard that she was a charming girl.”
“A charming girl—that’s what you think her?”
“Assuredly. Otherwise I should not be sitting here.”
The Doctor meditated a moment. “My dear young man,” he said at last, “you must be very susceptible. As Catherine’s father, I have, I trust, a just and tender appreciation of her many good qualities; but I don’t mind telling you that I have never thought of her as a charming girl, and never expected any one else to do so.”
Morris Townsend received this statement with a smile that was not wholly devoid of deference. “I don’t know what I might think of her if I were her father. I can’t put myself in that place. I speak from my own point of view.”
“You speak very well,” said the Doctor; “but that is not all that is necessary. I told Catherine yesterday that I disapproved of her engagement.”
“She let me know as much, and I was very sorry to hear it. I am greatly disappointed.” And Morris sat in silence awhile, looking at the floor.
“Did you really expect I would say I was delighted, and throw my daughter into your arms?”
“Oh no; I had an idea you didn’t like me.”