“Strange,” said Mr. Morgan, “that only this very morning the telegram should have been sent to your father. Had I known you were in England, I would have waited. One can say things better face to face. And yet I don’t know how that could have been either, for there was a sudden chance of getting good promises at Stavanger, and delay was impossible. I shall, of course, write fully to your father by the next mail, and I will tell him that it is with great regret we sever our connection with him.” Frithiof was so staggered by this unexpected piece of news that for a minute all else was driven from his mind. “He will be very sorry to be no longer your agent,” he said. “And I shall be sorry to lose him. Herr Falck has always been most honorable. I have the greatest respect for him. Still, business is business; one can’t afford to sentimentalize in life over old connections. It is certainly best in the interest of our firm to set up a branch of our own with its headquarters at Stavanger. My son will go there very shortly.” “The telegram is only just sent, you say?” asked Frithiof. “The first thing this morning,” replied Mr. Morgan. “It was decided on last night. By this time your father knows all about it; indeed, I almost wonder we have had no reply from him. You must not let the affair make any breach between us; it is after all, a mere business necessity. I must find out from Mrs. Morgan what free nights we have, and you must come and dine with us. I will write and let you know. Have you any particular business in London? or have you only come for the sake of traveling?” “I came to see you, sir,” said Frithiof, his heart beating quickly, though he spoke with his usual directness. “I came to ask your consent to my betrothal with your daughter.” “With my daughter!” exclaimed Mr. Morgan. “Betrothal! What, in Heaven’s name, can you be thinking of?” “I do not, of course, mean that there was a definite engagement between us,” said Frithiof, speaking all the more steadily because of this repulse. “Of course we could not have thought of that until we had asked your consent. We agreed that I should come over this autumn and speak to you about it; nothing passed at Balholm but just the assurance that we loved each other.” “Loved each other!” ejaculated Mr. Morgan, beginning to pace the room with a look of perplexity and annoyance. “What folly will the girl commit next?” At this Frithiof also rose to his feet, the angry color rising to his face. “I should never have spoken of my love to your daughter had I not been in a position to support her,” he said hotly. “By your English standards I may not, perhaps, be very rich, but our firm is one of the leading firms in Bergen. We come of a good old Norwegian family. Why should it be a folly for your daughter to love me?”