“You needn’t do that,” said Morris. “We can repudiate the option probably. It’s not your affair, as the law views it.”
“But I wish to make it my affair. I wish to do it, right away. I’ve heard that important things can’t be done right away, but these things must be,”—and she smiled at Morris and then at her uncle.
“You understand, Zee, that if you give this power of attorney you are brushing away any chance to get back this money.”
“Yes; perfectly. And now, Mr. Leighton, how long will it take?”
Morris looked at Merriam as though for his approval.
“Uncle agrees, of course, Mr. Leighton. You needn’t ask him,”—and the two men laughed. There was no making the situation tragic when the person chiefly concerned refused to have it so. She had accepted the loss of the bulk of her fortune and the fact of her father’s perfidy without a quaver. She seemed, indeed, to be in excellent spirits, and communicated her cheer to the others.
“If this is final—” began Morris.
“Of course it’s final,” said Zee.
“I’ll come back here at four o’clock and you can sign the power of attorney if you wish. But there’s one thing I’m going to do—on my own responsibility, if necessary. I’m going to get back that option on the creek strip that Mr. Dameron gave my friend Balcomb. Balcomb’s a bad lot, and I’m not disposed to show him any mercy.”
“I’d rather you didn’t—if my father pledged himself to sell—”