"I'm not prepared to go as far as that," smiled the Colonel, "but she is certainly a very pretty girl."
"She's beautiful," returned Allison, with deep conviction.
The Colonel forebore to remind him that love brings beauty with it, or that the beauty which endures comes from the soul within.
"Just think, Dad," Allison was saying, "how lovely she'll be at that end of the table, with me across from her and you at her right."
The Colonel shook his head, then cleared his throat. "Not always, lad," he said, kindly, "but perhaps, sometimes—as a guest."
Allison's fork dropped with a sharp clatter on his plate. "Dad! What do you mean?"
"No house is large enough for two families," repeated the Colonel, with an unconscious, parrot-like accent.
"Why, Dad! We've always stood together—surely you won't desert me now?"
The old man's eyes softened with mist. He could not trust himself to meet the clear, questioning gaze of his son.
"I can't understand," Allison went on, doubtfully. "Is it possible— could she-did-Isabel—?"