do. There are times when
one is sure everything is quite right and then that it is all wrong. But
I have hoped--I believe--She's such a ripping girl, you know. She would
not flirt with a chap and--I don't mean flirt exactly, she isn't a
flirt, of course--but--don't you think she likes me, now?"

"I have no reason to suppose she doesn't," I answered grudgingly. After
all, he was acting very honorably; I could scarcely do less.

He seemed to find much comfort in my equivocal reply.

"Thanks, thanks awfully," he exclaimed. "I--I--by Jove, you know, I
can't tell you how I like to hear you say that! I'm awfully grateful
to you, Knowles, I am really. And you'll give me permission to speak to
her?"

I smiled; it was not a happy smile, but there was a certain ironic humor
in the situation. The idea of anyone's seeking my "permission" in any
matter concerning Frances Morley. He noticed the smile and was, I think,
inclined to be offended.

"Is it a joke?" he asked. "I say, now! it isn't a joke to me."

"Nor to me, I assure you," I answered, seriously. "If I gave that
impression it was a mistaken one. I never felt less like joking."

He put his own interpretation on the last sentence. "I'm sorry," he
said, quickly. "I beg your pardon. I understand, of course. You're very
fond of her; no one could help being that, could they. And she is your
niece."

I hesitated. I was minded to blurt out the fact that she was not my
niece at all; that I had no authority over her in any way. But what
would be the use? It would lead only to explanations and I did not
wish to make explanations. I wanted to get through with the whole inane
business and be left alone.

"But you haven't said yes, have you," he urged. "You will say it, won't
you?"

I nodded. "You have my permission, so far as that goes," I answered.

He sprang to his feet and seized my hand.

"That's topping!" he cried, his face radiant. "I can't thank you
enough."

"That's all right. But there is one thing more. Perhaps it isn't my
affair, and you needn't answer unless you wish. Have you consulted your
parents? How do they feel about your--your intentions?"

His expression changed. My question was answered before he spoke.

"No," he admitted, "I haven't told them yet. I--Well, you see, the Mater
and Father have been making plans about my future, naturally. They have
some silly ideas about a friend of the family that--Oh, she's a nice
enough girl; I like her jolly well