She was willing to believe him; still, she hesitated. Uppermost in her heart, all these days, was a passion of pure scorn. It cast over Otto’s honest figure the glory of an aureole.
“Father,” she began again, “do you—would you really be happy to know I had accepted him?”
“You could not easily find a better husband,” replied the Dominé, evasively.
She knitted her brows, as was her wont in moments such as this.
“It would not make you sad, but happy,” she insisted.
“Sad—no, no,” cried the Dominé, eagerly. “To think of it—sad!”
“But—Java?” she said, faintly.
“My dear, you will not go to Java,” exclaimed the Dominé, very loud. “That you must tell him at once. You will stay in Holland. I may be very selfish, but I don’t care.”
He suddenly felt there were limits.
Ursula rose.