“Fine. We'll start about nine, or nine-thirty say. I'll drive up in a surrey.”
“And we'll have lunch for the party put up at the hotel here. I'll get some fruit to take along,” said Margaret.
“We'll make a regular picnic of it,” added Dunke heartily. “You'll enjoy eating out of a dinner-pail for once just like one of my miners, Miss Kinney.”
After he had gone Margaret mentioned to Mrs. Collins her feeling concerning him. “I don't really like him. Or rather I don't give him my full confidence. He seems pleasant enough, too.” She laughed a little as she added: “You know he does me the honor to admire me.”
“Yes, I know that. I was wondering how you felt about it.”
“How ought one to feel about one of the great mining kings of the West?”
“Has that anything to do with it, my dear? I mean his being a mining king?” asked Mrs. Collins gently.
Margaret went up to her and kissed her. “You're a romantic little thing. That's because you probably married a heaven-sent man. We can't all be fortunate.”
“We none of us need to marry where we don't love.”
“Goodness me! I'm not thinking of marrying Mr. Dunke's millions. The only thing is that I don't have a Croesus to exhibit every day at my chariot wheels. It's horrid of course, but I have a natural feminine reluctance to surrendering him all at once. I don't object in the least to trampling on him, but somehow I don't feel ready for his declaration of independence.”