“In what manner?”
“Why, in this manner—but you mustn’t mind my speaking out: we know each other well enough not to stickle at formalities—eh?”
“Say on, sir.”
“I understand human nature as well as most men; and I don’t expect too much of it—not even of you, my dear Charles. I can put myself in your place, and look at things in your way. Quite right and natural you should wish Perdita to feel toward you as a daughter to her father. And as to Fillmore, of course it might be necessary, in doing business with him, to enter into certain explanations: for Merton has his crotchets, and is not the man to go into anything he doesn’t, in a certain way, approve of. But, allowing all that, I have to consider my own position also. I’m compromised; and taking my age and yours into consideration (not to mention other things), it makes me doocidly uneasy. I can believe you mean me no harm; but others might be less considerate. I’m not half sure of Fillmore; and as for Perdita ... who trusts a woman at the best of times?”
“Let me point out to you, Bendibow, that you are proceeding upon an assumption of your own: namely, that my daughter and Mr. Fillmore know your secret.”
“Well,” said the other, with a husky laugh, “appearances look that way, and what’s more, you’ve not denied it.”
“I have neither denied nor affirmed it,” repeated Grant.
“Quite right of you not to commit yourself. But, passing that over, if you really mean me no mischief, why the devil can’t you give me tangible proof and pledge of it?”
“Bendibow, have you had any occasion to suspect me of unfriendliness since my return here?”
“H’m! nothing definite, perhaps. But it would have seemed more natural if you had banked with us instead of Childs, for instance.”