"Well," I retorted, "my prospects are as good as the average young man's at my age, if not better." I was surprised at my own self-assurance.
"All right—we'll concede that, too," he said with a wave of his cigar. "Now, Ted, you know Helen's very young—only just out of school. Her tastes may change—probably will. She thinks she loves you, but she's only in love with love. Neither you nor she knows what love is."
"We have to take our chances with it, just as all young people do. By the time we learn what love is we can preach it to our grandchildren." It seemed, when I spoke, as if I were listening to a third person. I really wanted to be conciliatory, but the words came to suit themselves.
"You are sentencing yourselves to each other for life; it's a long penalty to pay if you make a mistake. As for love, that doesn't help much—not the kind of thing you imagine it to be, doesn't. Marriage means a lot of plain, everyday facts—a few pleasant, more unpleasant. I married for love," he concluded reflectively.
"Yes—and it brought you Helen." This time I knew I had scored. He laid his cigar down and looked out the window. Then he turned to me: "Ted, I'll put my cards on the table; if Helen wants you she shall have you. I've never gone against her will in anything important, and I don't intend to. I wish she was older, but there's no use wishing that now." I half rose to my feet in sheer joy. "Sit down, Ted; I'm not through. I make two conditions: first, I don't want you to say anything about this to any one but Helen's mother until Christmas. Let's see how you get on when you get to know each other better. Next, if Helen takes you, she must take you as you are. Because I have been fairly successful in business won't count at all. I'll not give her a cent before I go. Helen has to make her own choice and put up with it, whether it is riches or poverty."
"As far as I am concerned, I agree to both conditions." "You would," he assented drily. "Let's hear what Helen has to say about it."
We went into the next room, to find Helen hugging her violets to her bosom. "Mother" had gone upstairs for her afternoon rest. I boldly walked over to Helen and kissed her.
"Ted, I wish you'd stop all that until Christmas," Mr. Claybourne said grimly. We sat down, but Helen left her hand in mine.
"Well, little girl, Ted tells me you love him."
"Yes, dad dear." The look on Helen's face as she said this brought the tears to my eyes, and even Mr. Claybourne, with all his assumption of practicality, was none too comfortable.