He announced it one resplendent fall day, having gone out to Greenvale with that particular object in view, at an hour when he was sure that Hal would be at the office.
"Esmé, I'm going to make you a wedding present of Certina," he said.
"Never take it, Doctor," she replied, smiling up at him in friendly recognition of what had come to be a subject of stock joke between them.
"I'm serious. I'm going to make you a wedding present of the Certina business. I guess there aren't many brides get a gift of half a million a year. Too bad I can't give it out to the newspapers, but it wouldn't do."
"What on earth do you mean?" cried the astonished girl. "I couldn't take it. Hal wouldn't let me."
"I'm going to give it up, for you. You think it ain't genteel and high-toned, don't you?"
"I think it isn't honest."
"Not discussing business principles, to-day," retorted the Doctor good-humoredly. "It's a question of taste now. You're ashamed of the proprietary medicine game, aren't you, my dear?"
Esmé laughed. Embarrassment with Dr. Surtaine was impossible. He was too childlike. "A little," she confessed.
"You'd be glad if I quit it."