“No” she said. “It isn’t anywhere near as simple as that. I—I do love him I believe. He is the only man I have ever really thought twice about. He is the center of all my thoughts now, and has been for a long time.”
“But—but who is he?” the major gasped.
“Garry Knapp.”
Her father repeated the name slowly and his expression of countenance certainly displayed amazement. “Did I ever see the young man?”
“No.”
“Your aunt—one of your cousins’ friends?”
“Dear Daddy,” said Dorothy, frankly and smiling a little. “I have done something not at all as you would expect cautious little me to do. I have picked a man—and, oh, he is a man, Daddy!—right out of the great mob of folks. Nobody introduced us. We just—well, met.”
“The young man has been spoken of by Tavia, I believe,” said Major Dale, quite cheerfully. “I remember now. Mr. Knapp. You met him at the hotel in New York?”
“Before we got to the hotel. In the train I noticed him—vaguely. On the platform where we changed cars at that Manhattan Transfer place, I saw him better. I—I never was so much interested in a man before.”
Major Dale looked at her rather solemnly for a moment. “Are you sure, my dear, it is anything more than fancy?”