“To-day, yes.”
“But—but—we’ve only just found each other.”
“That’s lamentable, of course. But I can’t help——”
“You must put off your sailing.” Johnathan said it as though he had settled the entire matter.
Nathan shook his head.
“Sorry, father,” he answered. “It’s impossible! We’ve been lucky enough to secure immediate passage, and we must get back. Miss Theddon is not in the best of health and I’ve got a New York job waiting that can’t go begging another moment.”
“My Lord! You’re not going to run after we’ve just found each other! Not that, Natie, not that!”
“I’m not running. But I’ve been away from home a year and a half and we’re expected back June first without fail.”
Johnathan looked around frantically, desperately.
“No,” he said after a time. “I don’t suppose you would stay, not for me! I never cut much of a figure in your life, anyhow, did I, Nathan? You and your plans never took much account of your father, did they? Maybe if they had, I’d never have left home in the first place.” Again Johnathan smeared the back of his hand across his forehead. He turned to Madelaine. “For twenty-five years it was just like this!” he told her. “And you see what it’s done to me.” He submitted himself abjectly for general compassion and sympathy. Madelaine’s voice was courteous enough but a bit icy as she responded: