He got home in time for dinner: he and Natalie dined together, and he was particularly kind to her; he talked in Magyar, which was his custom when he wished to be friendly and affectionate; he made no reference to George Brand whatsoever.
"Natalie," said he, casually, "it was not fair that you were deprived of a holiday this year. You know the reason—there were too many important things going forward. But it is not yet too late. You must think about it—think where you would like to go for two or three weeks."
She did not answer. It was on that morning that she had placed her written offer in her lover's hands; so far there had been no reply from him.
"And Madame Potecki," her father continued; "she is not very rich; she has but little change. Why not take her with you instead of Anneli?"
"I should like to take her away for a time," said the girl, in a low voice. "She lives a monotonous life; but she has always her pupils."
"Some arrangement could be made with them, surely," her father said, lightly; and then he added, "Paris is always the safest place to go to when one is in doubt. There you are independent of the weather; there are so many things to see and to do if it rains. Will you think of it, Natalushka?"
"Yes, papa," she said, though she felt rather guilty. But she was so grateful to have her father talk to her in this friendly way again, after the days of estrangement that had
passed, that she could not but pretend to fall in with his schemes.
"And I will tell you another thing," said Mr. Lind. "I intend to buy you some furs, Natalie, for the winter. These we will get in Paris."
"I am too much of an expense to you already, papa."