"And now, sir," began Robert Morton, a ring of buoyancy and light-heartedness in his voice such as had not sounded in it for weeks, "I have a surprise for you. I, too, am going to be married."
The car swerved suddenly as if a tremor had passed through the hands on the wheel.
"I am engaged to your niece, Mr. Galbraith."
"To my—my niece!" repeated the great man blankly. "I don't think I quite—"
"To Delight Hathaway."
Bob saw a dull brick-red flush color the neck of the capitalist and steal up into his face. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words. Then presently, as if he had succeeded in readjusting his ideas, he ejaculated:
"My word, Bob! Well, you young people have mixed yourselves up nicely! However, if you all are happy, that is the main thing; you are the ones to be suited. We shall still have you in the family, anyway." He laughed. "And about the property," he went on thoughtfully,—"this simplifies matters greatly, for it won't make much difference now which of you has it—you or the girl."
But Bob stopped him with a quick protest.
"I don't want Delight to know Madam Lee's money has previously been willed to me," he said. "If she suspected that, she would never take it. You are not to tell her—promise me you will see to that."
"Of course I will arrange the affair any way you wish," Mr. Galbraith agreed, with a dubious frown. "But if you are to marry her, I really can't see what difference it would make."