“All girls do sooner or later,” replied Max, philosophically.
“But she’s too young yet—far too young. Twenty-five is quite early enough for a girl to marry.”
“And who’s the man?”
“Your friend—Charlie Rolfe.”
“Charlie!” he exclaimed, in great surprise. “And he’s in love with Maud. Are you quite sure of this?”
“Quite. She meets him in secret, and though Rolfe is your friend, Max, I tell you I don’t like it,” he declared.
“I am not surprised. Secret affections never meet with a parent’s approbation. If Charlie is in love with her, and the affection is mutual, why doesn’t he come straight and tell you?”
“Exactly my argument,” declared Petrovitch, lighting a fresh cigarette with the end of one half-consumed. “But tell me, Rolfe is an intimate friend of yours, is he not?”
“Very,” was Max’s reply, though he did not inform his friend of his love for Marion.
“What is his exact position?”