“And why, if I may ask?”
“Because I do not wish to accept attentions which might lead Mr. Tressalia to imagine that I possess a deeper regard for him than I really have,” Editha said, candidly, yet with some confusion.
“Then you mean me to understand you regard Paul Tressalia only in the light of a friend, and you are unwilling that friendship should develop into any warmer sentiment?” Mr. Dalton asked, with lowering brow.
“Yes, sir,” was the firm though low reply.
“That places me in a very fine position; for—for—I may as well out with it first as last—that gentleman has asked my permission to address you with a view to marriage, and I have given it;” and Mr. Dalton looked very much disturbed and angry.
“Oh, papa!” Editha exclaimed, in pained surprise, and flushing deepest crimson.
“Well?” he demanded, almost fiercely, while he eyed her keenly.
“I am very sorry you have done so, for it cannot be;” and her voice trembled slightly as she said it.
“Why?”
“Because—I can never care for him in any such way as that.”