For an instant Beekman hesitated and glanced about the room as though for inspiration, then his eyes settled down once more on Peter V.
"Mr. Wilkinson," he stammered, "I'm a bit old-fashioned, I suppose, all wrong, from the modern point of view, but I've got something on my mind—something——"
"Out with it," laughed the older man.
The Governor-elect gulped.
"It's—your—your daughter Leslie," he went on, still floundering. "I want to marry her—thought I'd ask you first."
"Ask me first?" exploded Peter V. Wilkinson. "Haven't you asked her yet?"
"Her money—I've always been afraid of people with a lot of money, and——"
"You needn't be afraid of me," gurgled Wilkinson; "I haven't any left."
"But the principle is the same," insisted Beekman. "I wanted to be sure, that's all."
"Suppose I refuse?"