But, perhaps for the first time in his life, Dauphin didn’t immediately follow him. Instead, he went first to Edith, laying his long nozzle in her lap. For five or ten minutes, as Collingham smoked his morning cigar while visiting the stables, the garage, and the kitchen garden, the natural man tried to raise his voice. "Why didn’t you say, ’Marry your man, Edith, my child, and I’ll give you ten thousand a year?’ Poor little girl," this first Collingham went on, "she’s so frank and true and high spirited! You’ve made her unhappy when you could so easily have made her glad." "You said what any other American father in your position would have said," the pupil of Bickley and Junia argued, on the other side. "True, you’ve made her unhappy, but young people often have to be made unhappy in order that the foolish dictates of the heart may be repressed. There are millions of people all over the world whose lives would have been spoiled if such early emotional impulses hadn’t been thwarted." And, after all, it was true that the intellectual was not respected. The public pretended that it was, but when it came to the test of social and financial reward—the only rewards there were—the pretense was apparent. There were no intellectual people at Marillo Park; there were none whom he, Collingham, knew in business. There were men with brains; but to distinguish them from the intellectual they were described as brainy. Edith as the wife of an intellectual man would be self-destroyed; and it was his duty as her father to stop, if he could, that self-destruction. By the time he had reached the point in his morning ritual which brought him to Junia’s bedside, he was standardized again, even though it was with a bleeding heart. He could more easily suffer a bleeding heart than he could the fear of not being an efficient man of business. "What use have you had for the twenty-five thousand I’ve paid in your account?" he asked, before he kissed her good-by. She concealed her anxiety that so many days had passed without a sign from Jennie under an air of nonchalance. "No use as yet, but I expect to have. I shall let you know when the time comes." But no sign could come from Jennie, for the reason that her father died in mid-July, and during the intervening weeks she was tied to his bedroom. As the eldest daughter and the only one at home, all her other functions were absorbed in those of nurse. Luckily, there was money in the house, for Teddy had been successful in his efforts "on the side," and Bob continued to transmit small sums to herself, which she added to the hundred dollars in the top bureau drawer. Bob, Hubert, Collingham Lodge, her ambition, and her love became unreal and remote as she watched the setting of the sun to which her being had been turned. In the eyes of others, Josiah might be feeble and a failure, but to Teddy and his sisters he was their father, the pivot of their lives, the nearest thing to a supreme being they had known.