Colonel Curmew was at his best on these gay occasions—gallant, jocose, busy, everybody’s friend, including Jack Rivett’s, who quietly began to hate him. In the midst of the general tension and expectancy concerning the long-awaited flight, Christine one morning entered her father’s study and found the author of her being conferring with Mr. Dineen. "This won’t do, Christine," he said. "I’m busy." "No, it won’t do," she admitted, looking so significantly at Mr. Dineen that the jolly, big Irishman laughed. "_You_ want _me_ to go out!" he said, shaking an enormous forefinger at her. "Please—for a few minutes." "Sure," said Mr. Dineen with an amused glance at Rivett, who sat inspecting his offspring with a face entirely devoid of expression. When the big Mr. Dineen had closed the door behind him, Christine, a trifle pale, walked resolutely to her father and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Dad?" "What?" "I’ve practically asked Billy Inwood to marry me." Her father’s eyes bored through and through her. "Who did the asking, Chrissy?" "Both of us." "What?" he barked. "It wasn’t asking, exactly. I have loved him for a year, and he has loved me. There has been a misunderstanding." "About what?" His daughter’s eyes never flinched. "About a point of honor, father," she said quietly. He grunted. She went on, still resting her hand on his shoulder. "We were very unhappy; but the point of honor involved straightened itself out.... I happened to be in the rose arbor that evening. He came in by accident.... After we had talked a little, he told me that he was free to speak if I would listen to him.... Then, somehow, we merely looked at each other, and—and presently—presently we kissed each other.... I don’t remember much else ... except that I said I would marry him—before he asked me——" "Did you also set the date?" inquired her father sarcastically. "No.... Mother and I are considering.... Are you happy over it, dad?" "Not violently." "Why?" "I don’t know anything about him," he snapped. "Yes, you know that I’m in love with him." "Certainly; of course. Very worthy young man, no doubt." "Also," continued his daughter calmly, "you know that Jim Edgerton is his closest friend." "That," said Rivett, "counts some." "And mother likes him," concluded the girl. Her father sat staring at her in silence. Suddenly she put her arms around his neck, and the little man hid his spectacles on her breast for a second. "Thank you, dad, darling," she whispered. "Chrissy—Chrissy—so soon! I wanted you awhile yet." ... He jerked his head free, produced a handkerchief, and began busily to polish his eyeglasses. "All right," he said brusquely, "I’ll talk it over with your mother.... She knows.... She knows more than I do. They wouldn’t believe that in Wall Street, but it’s true." "Dad?" "Yes, child." "Couldn’t we live with you and mother?"