American fiction -- 20th century; Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
1
FELIX stood still for a moment with a lemon suspended in mid-squeeze.
“I know just how you feel,” said the old gentleman. “At such a moment as
this, a father-in-law would be just the last straw!”
Felix laughed, and shook the extended hand. “Did I give away my dismay
as plainly as all that?” he asked.
“I don’t blame you,” said the old gentleman, taking off his hat and
overcoat, and sitting down. “Go right on with what you were doing, and
we’ll talk. I feel rather well acquainted with you from what I’ve
already heard about you. No, Rose-Ann didn’t say much, but I sort of
always know what she’s up to. The marriage wasn’t exactly a surprise to
me. And I shouldn’t have thought of coming down here to bother you,
except that I thought it would be better for me to come than one of the
boys. You see, I’ll have to report to them that it’s all right, or
they’ll go on thinking that Rose-Ann has married some perfectly
disreputable person.” He smiled.
“How do you know,” Felix asked, laughingly, “that I’m _not_ a
disreputable person!”
“Well,” said Rose-Ann’s father gravely, taking out a cigar, “perhaps you
are. Will you have one of these? No? They’re very good Havana cigars—I
can recommend them; oh, I see you smoke cigarettes.... Perhaps you _are_
a disreputable person. But of a certain type that I can very well
sympathize with, because I belong to it myself. Impractical. Yes, I can
see you’re that. Not interested in making money. All that sort of thing.
Yes, I’m afraid my sons would consider you a poor match for Rose-Ann.
What they don’t understand is that she was bound to marry that sort if
she married anybody. I’ll have to misrepresent you when I get back home.
I’ll tell them that you’re an enterprising young newspaper man. You
won’t mind that?”
“I should be delighted to have somebody think that of me,” said Felix.
“Well, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t.... I’ll be a little sad
when I get home, and tell them that I’m afraid Rose-Ann will never be
really happy with you—that you are too practical to appreciate the
poetic side of her nature. Then they’ll be convinced that it’s all
right.... I suppose it sounds odd to you, my speaking this way of my own
sons?”
“Well—yes,” said Felix, “it does rather! But it’s refreshing.”
“I haven’t a scrap of family sentiment,” said Rose-Ann’s father. “I am
interested in people only as individuals. And I must say that I have
been cursed with four of the most practical and unimaginative sons that
a ne’er-do-well father ever had. They will all end up as millionaires,
I’m sure. By the way, I hope you’ve no prejudice against preachers?”
“Not your kind, anyway!” Felix laughed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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