“The best thing is to pack your trunks and travel a bit. That will give her something else to think about, and she’ll forget all about the little chap.”
“But I can’t leave the business.”
“The business will run itself. Or, if it won’t, what’s a year’s profits compared to your only daughter’s life happiness?”
“But the bonds?”
“Don’t bid on them.”
“I can’t go. I can’t leave my business. Why, I haven’t been away from it for more than a week in forty years.”
“All the more reason for going now.”
“I have it. Her mother and she shall sail with you.”
“Oh, get out!” ejaculated Champney, “I’m going for a rest.” Mr. Potter had been the slave for many years of two selfish sisters and a whining mother,—a mother who loved to whine,—and womankind meant to him an absolute and entire nuisance.
“That’s it,” said the senior partner, regardless of this protest. “You arrange to stay for six months instead of two. I’ll do your work gladly.”