He hesitated. Then he nodded.
“Certainly I will, if you want me to,” he said. “But no matter how much you think it doesn’t change the fact that we love each other and belong to each other. That is settled.... Good-night, dearest. I’ll see you Friday evening, of course. And then we can talk, can’t we.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t know what I may have decided by that time. I am not sure that I am doing right in letting you come on Friday—or any more at all. I am not sure of anything.”
“I am. And I shall be thinking, too. This Paris business—well, I may have something to say about that. I have an idea of my own—or a part of one. It has just this minute come to me. I’ll tell you about it then. Good-night.”
When Esther tiptoed up the stairs to her room she devoutly hoped that her uncle’s door might be closed. She simply could not face him, or speak with him. She dreaded those keen eyes of his. The door was open, however, and he called to her.
“What!” he cried. “That young fellow gone so early? He’s been standing longer watches than this lately. What’s the matter? Anything happened?”
She did not pause and she tried hard to make her tone casual.
“Oh, no,” she answered. “Nothing has happened. Good-night, Uncle dear.”
He chuckled to himself. In spite of her care there had been a tremor in her voice. He guessed the reason, or thought he did. She had told Griffin of the European trip and he—and perhaps she—had come to realize that it meant the end of their association. Well, that is exactly what he intended it to mean. No doubt they both regretted the parting. Never mind. Esther would soon get over it. Better a trifling heartache now than a big one later on. She should not marry Elisha Cook’s grandson if he were the only man on earth. His own heartache at the thought of losing her for a time was soothed by the certainty that once more he was having his own way.