"That can wait," said Pen cautiously.
"You may not get the chance, later."
"I don't know that I have the chance now."
"Oh, let's talk plainly!" Pendleton burst out, but still not meeting her eye. "This is no time for false delicacy. Anybody could see that Riever wants you. He's given me to understand in the broadest way that you have only to say the word. Even after the extraordinary way you have acted. You still have a chance. What makes you hold back? You've got to marry somebody. Men are all much the same. Marriage is no bed of roses at the best! ... Am I not your father? Would I be advising you to anything that wasn't for your good? It's a wonderful chance! a wonderful chance, I tell you! ... And you talk about going away!" The little man was almost ready to weep.
Pen schooled herself to patience. "If Mr. Riever is really in earnest my going away will not make any difference ... It's said to be a very good move," she added slyly.
"Not where a man like Riever is concerned!" cried Pendleton. "He's accustomed to be courted, to be deferred to. He'd never get over such an affront. He'd pull up anchor and sail away never to return!"
Pen thought: "Ah, if he would!"
"What was in that letter you got?" demanded Pendleton. "Has that got anything to do with it?"
Pen was startled. She saw, however, that it was merely a hit in the dark. He had no real suspicion. The best way was to ignore his question as unworthy of being answered. "Won't you give me the money?" she said.
"Where am I going to get it."