his visible wish for brevity of debate a sign of his uncomfortable and
indeed rather irritated sense of his not making a figure in it? "Do you
desire it very particularly?" was, however, all she at last brought out.

"I should like it exceedingly--if you act from conviction. Then of
course only; but of one thing I'm myself convinced--of what he thinks of
yourself and feels for you."

"Then would you mind my waiting a little?" she asked. "I mean to be
absolutely sure of myself." After which, on his delaying to agree, she
added frankly, as to help her case: "Upon my word, father, I should like
to do what would please you."

But it determined in him a sharper impatience. "Ah, what would please
_me!_ Don't put it off on 'me'! Judge absolutely for yourself"--he
slightly took himself up--"in the light of my having consented to do for
him what I always _hate_ to do: deviate from my normal practice of never
intermeddling. If I've deviated now you can judge. But to do so all
round, of course, take--in reason!--your time."

"May I ask then," she said, "for still a little more?"

He looked for this, verily, as if it was not in reason. "You know," he
then returned, "what he'll feel that a sign of."

"Well, I'll tell him what I mean."

"Then I'll send him to you."

He glanced at his watch and was going, but after a "Thanks, father," she
had stopped him. "There's one thing more." An embarrassment showed in
her manner, but at the cost of some effect of earnest abruptness she
surmounted it. "What does your American--Mr. Bender--want?"

Lord Theign plainly felt the challenge. "'My' American? He's none of
mine!"

"Well then Lord John's."

"He's none of his either--more, I mean, than any one else's. He's every
one's American, literally--to all appearance; and I've not to tell
_you_, surely, with the freedom of your own visitors, how people stalk
in and out here."

"No, father--certainly," she said. "You're splendidly generous."

His eyes seemed rather sharply to ask her then how he could improve on
that; but he added as if it were enough: "What the man must by this time
want more than anything else is his car."

"Not then anything of ours?" she still insisted.

"Of 'ours'?" he echoed with a frown. "Are you afraid he has an eye to
something of _yours?_"

"Why, if we've a new treasure--which we certainly have if we possess
a Mantovano--haven't we all, even I, an immense interest in it?" And
before he could answer, "Is _t