"She's game, and worth the best fellow born."
"Is not your Robert good enough for her?"
"No; but your John is."
There was a long silence. Somewhere outside a carriage drove into the Square, the echo of its wheels deadened by the heavy curtains. Somewhere in the house a door closed noisily.
"I always used to fancy I would want a Scotch lassie, for John," said the Scotchman with a slow smile, "but lately I have not been so sure; not—so—sure!"
Trevelyan's father sat silent.
"Out in India," he said after a while, "there will be something for him to do and think of besides the little American girl—" he rose, "You will see to it then?"
The elder Stewart looked thoughtfully down at the table.
"Since you think it wisest—yes."
* * * * *