settle such things. And—and Daddy wouldn't be willing."
He turned to her his startled face. "Do you mean he has said so?"
"Yes. I didn't intend to tell you. But I think I ought. He didn't want you to come—"
"Why not?"
"Well—" it was a rather difficult confession, "he asked if you were in love with me. And I said—that you were—but that there wasn't any . . . promise."
"You mean that he played the heavy father?"
"In a way, yes. You see, he doesn't want me to marry."
"The cheek of him!" Crispin commented. "He married twice."
"Crispin!"
"Well, he did, didn't he?"
"Yes. But he says he wants to keep me for himself."
"He can't have you. Of course, you know that. You're mine."
It was thrilling, the way he said it! "Cock-o'-the-walk!" Hildegarde teased, but her heart was beating.
And who knows what might have happened, in that moment, if Meriweather's big car had not come whirling down the road, with Sally on the back seat with the doll, Sarah?
When he saw Crispin and Hildegarde, Meriweather stopped.
"By all the gods!" he ejaculated. "Where are the two of you going?"
"We've been," Hildegarde told him.
