Winfield writhed at Roger’s light sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter what they say. I am of age.”
“So I judge, but have you an income of your own?”
“No, but— Well, I can take care of Sheila, I guess!” He was angry now.
Roger rather liked him for his bluster, but he said, “In any case there is no especial hurry, I presume.”
To the young lovers there seemed to be the most enormous necessity of haste to forsake the world and build their own nest in their own tree.
Roger was silent and Polly was silent. Winfield felt called upon to speak. At last he managed to extort a few words from his embarrassment:
“Anyway, I can count on your consent, can I?”
“Our consent!” laughed Roger. “What have we to say? We’re only the parents of a young American princess. If Sheila says yes, your next trouble is your own parents, for you are only an American man.”
“Anyway, you won’t oppose us?” Winfield urged.
“My boy, I would no more oppose Sheila than I would oppose the Twentieth Century Limited in full flight.”