“You will take something, Dick, won't you?”
“Nothing, Sir, thanks.”
Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began circuitously—
“I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long shall I allow you to guess what it is?”
“I'm the worst guesser in the world—pray don't wait for me, Sir.”
“Well, I have in my desk there—would you mind putting it on the table here?—a letter from Wynderbroke. You know him?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Well, Wynderbroke writes—the letter arrived only an hour ago—to ask my leave to marry your sister, if she will consent; and he says all he will do, which is very handsome—very generous indeed. Wait a moment. Yes, here it is. Read that.”
Richard Arden did read the letter, with open eyes and breathless interest. The old man's eyes were upon him as he did so.
“Well, Richard, what do you think?”