"Oh, well, don't do that—it's quite unnecessary, and it would be rather a bore, you know. When shall we be married?"
"Oh, but—"
"There's nothing to wait for. I've got enough money, and the house in Stratton Street is literally gaping for you to go and live in it. It seems to me that the only thing to be done is to get a ring and a license."
"But we can't be married till father knows; we can't, indeed."
"All right, dear; we'll send him a cable. We might send your mother a telegram at the same time—what do you think?"
Margaret considered for a moment. "How soon, do you think, I could give up the theatre?" she asked.
"Why, this very minute, of course. I'll write to Farley before I start, and so shall you, and tell him all about it."
"But can he get any one in my place immediately?"
"Of course; probably a whole crowd are waiting round the stage door ready to jump into it. There are too many people in the world who want to work—too many who must work," he added, with a shade of seriousness; "but what about your mother?"