Garrison realized at once that Dorothy might have prepared a harmless fiction with which his answers might not correspond. He assumed a calm and deliberation he was far from feeling, as he said:
"I was not aware that I should be obliged to account to anyone save Dorothy for my goings and comings. Up to the present I believe she has been quite well satisfied with my deportment; haven't you, Dorothy?"
"Perfectly," said Dorothy, whose utterance was perhaps a trifle faint.
"Can't we all be friends—and talk about——"
"I prefer to talk about this for a moment," interrupted her uncle, still regarding Garrison with the closest scrutiny. "What's your business, anyway, Mr. Fairfax?"
Garrison, adhering to a policy of telling the truth with the greatest possible frequency, and aware that evasion would avail them nothing, waited the fraction of a minute for Dorothy to speak. She was silent. He felt she had not committed herself or him upon the subject.
"I am engaged at present in some insurance business," he said. "It will take me out of town to-night, and keep me away for a somewhat indefinite period."
"H'm!" said Mr. Robinson. "I suppose you'll quit your present employment pretty soon?"
With no possible chance of comprehending the drift of inquiry, Garrison responded:
"Possibly."
"I thought so!" exclaimed the old man, with unconcealed asperity.
"Marrying for money is much more remunerative, hey?"