"I wish we'd done it before. I think it was Aunt Mary who said once that we ought to have done it ten years ago if we had wanted to get the full benefit out of it." "What did she mean by the full benefit?" He thought for a moment, and then did not answer her question directly. "It's the family life that takes hold of you," he said. "If it's a happy one nothing else counts beside it. That's what this business of B's has put in danger. Now it's over, I can see how great the danger has been." "But you must expect her to marry some time, darling." "I know. But the right sort of fellow. It's got to be somebody you can take in. I've thought it all over, while this has been going on, but I didn't dare to look into it too closely because this wasn't the right fellow. If she'd been in trouble, afterwards, she'd have come to me. But I shouldn't have been able to do much to mend it for her. But the right sort of marriage--I should have had my share in that. I shan't dread it, when it comes, for any of you. You'll want me to know all about your happiness. You'll want me to be with you sometimes, and you'll want to write to me often, so as to keep up. I shan't be out of it,--if you marry the right fellow." "I can't imagine myself being happy away from you for long, Daddy," she said softly. "Ah, that's because you don't know what it is yet, darling. Oh, you'll be happy right enough, when it comes. But you'll be thinking of me too, and there'll always be the contact--visits or letters. Without it, it would be too much--a man losing his daughter, if he loved her. That's what I've feared about B. She'd go away. Perhaps she wouldn't even take the trouble to write." "Oh, yes, darling." "I don't know. I couldn't tell how much I should be losing her. Oh, well, it's over now. One needn't think about it any more. She won't choose that sort of fellow again; and the right sort of fellow would want her to keep up with her father." There was another pause, and then he said: "It's given me a lot to think about. When your children are growing up you're fairly young. Perhaps you don't value your family life as much as you might. You hardly know what they are to you. Then suddenly they're grown up, and begin to leave you. You don't feel much older, but the past, when you had them all with you, is gone. It's a big change. You've moved up a generation. If you can't be certain of having something to put in the place of what you've lost----" He left off. She understood that, now the danger was removed, he was allowing himself to face all the troubles that he had hardly dared look into, and so getting rid of them. "You'll never grow old, darling," she said fondly. "Not to me, at any rate. And if I ever do marry I shall always want you. At any rate, we have each other now, for a long time, I hope. If B does marry--and of course she will, some day--it isn't likely to be for some time now. And as for me, I don't feel like it at all. I'm so happy as I am."