He watched them sharply as they rode toward the house. Their gay voices came to him lifted into soft laughter; their light merriment, so in tune with the springtime, fell jarringly on Leland's ears.
"The fellow has the insolence of Satan," he muttered angrily.
For a moment he lost sight of them as they passed behind the stable. Then, walking, Wanda's face lifted in rosy happiness, Wayne's like a boy's, eager and glad, they came on to the house. Leland stood stone still at the window; Wanda, catching sight of him, threw him a kiss. Wayne, with a brief word to Wanda left her under the cedars in the yard and came swiftly to the study, the light buoyancy of his step bespeaking the exhilaration that danced through his blood. He swept off his hat, put out his hand eagerly as he came into the room, his eyes filled with the brightness of a supreme happiness.
"I am glad that I found you in," he began impetuously. "I don't know how I could have waited … What's the matter, Mr. Leland?"
For Martin Leland, directing at him a piercing glance whose meaning was unmistakable, did not unclasp the hands behind his back.
"You had something to say to me," Leland reminded him briefly. "What is it?"
Shandon met his stare with silent surprise. Then, forcing himself to speak quietly, as though the insult of Leland's attitude had been unnoticed, he said:
"I wanted to tell you that I love Wanda, that some day I hope to make her my wife."
"What!" shouted Leland incredulously. "You—you want to marry my daughter! You!"
"Yes," said Wayne steadily. "I."