She was so gentle, the meaning of her kindness struck so deep that he flushed as he took her hand.
“I have never lost faith in you, Wayne.”
“Thank you; you’re the only one, then, Mrs. Wingfield. You and Dick are about all I have left.”
“Who is this woman your father is marrying?” she demanded with sudden asperity.
“A lady, of course. What would you expect of my father?”
“I would expect him to be like all the other old fools,” she declared. “A woman like your mother, Wayne Craighill, can have no successor.”
She still clasped his hand lightly, and he bent over her with deferential courtesy.
“I hope he is marrying a good woman for your sake—and Fanny’s.”
“Father wouldn’t marry any other kind; you may be sure of that,” laughed Wayne.
“I don’t know anything of the kind. I have waited a good many years to see your father do something outrageous and now I’m going to be satisfied. Who is this person, anyhow?”