He made a sigh of resignation. "That is for you to decide. It rests with you, of course."
"I agree with you that it would be very foolish of us to marry without my father's consent, Mr. Dale."
He drew himself up a little, and looked at me as if hurt. "Are you angry with me, Virginia?"
"Angry? Why should I be angry?"
"Then why call me Mr. Dale?"
"Because," I answered quietly and firmly, though I felt my anger rising, "unless you are to be my husband, you must be Mr. Dale."
"Can we not be friends?" he asked in a dejected tone.
"We can never be anything else," I answered with some ambiguity; and I rose and rang the bell.
The servant entered. "Tell Mr. Harlan, please, that I would like to speak to him."
"I think we are acting for the best," he said, after an awkward pause.