She laughed.
“Oh, Jack! I never think of the Philosopher that way! I wouldn’t marry him for all the world!”
“Well, that’s a comfort,” and Jack drew a long breath of relief. “That’s a real balm in Gilead! But he’ll want to marry you, you take my word for it! And when I’m gone he’ll have a clear field!”
She raised her eyes rather reproachfully.
“Then you don’t believe me’?”
“Yes, I do—of course I do!” and Jack pressed hard the little hand he held. “But I’ve got a bit of imagination, fool though I am! I see a thousand possibilities—your Dad may die—and then you’ll be all alone—and Mr. Philosopher will step in to ‘protect and console the only child of his dear dead friend!’—ugh!—I can hear him saying it!—and I shall be the Lord knows where!—and you—you are such a dainty little ‘rose-lady’ with such docile, obedient ways—”
She flashed a sudden look at him.
“You don’t know me well enough!” she said. “I’ve got a will of my own!”
“Have you?” and Jack smiled indulgently. “Well! I hope you have! And that you’ll say ‘No’ very firmly when Mr. Philosopher comes round after you and your fortune—there!—don’t look so surprised!—I heard him say he knew your father would leave you a big fortune!”
“Me?” and the astonishment was openly genuine. “Oh, Jack, you must be dreaming! Dad isn’t rich at all—he always tells me he has the greatest difficulty to make both ends meet!”