“We were both hasty. You inherit my disposition--and it’s a rather difficult one.” He was hesitatingly caressing her hand. “I wanted a boy with my sort of brain,” he went on. “But it didn’t turn out that way. You inherited, instead. Just as well, perhaps. I’d have broken with a boy like myself. But the feminine in you saves the situation. We can forgive each other without pride interfering.... I’m sorry for what I did, and I’ve no doubt you are. Let’s forget it all and go home and begin again.” “You mean that, father?” cried she, tears again welling into her eyes. “Oh, you _do_ love me! And I thought you didn’t.” “This business has aged me ten years,” said he, thinking rapidly as he was still further encouraged by those tears. “I saw it myself when I shaved this morning.” Beatrice hung her head. For the moment she felt guilty. She--_she_ had aged this loving, always-indulgent father! This further evidence of feminine softness and affection encouraged him to the point of believing himself once more master. He said, in a forgiving tone: “But you didn’t realize what you were doing. Well, you’ve had a valuable lesson, my dear, and you’ve got the intelligence to profit by it. How long will it take you to get ready?” “Oh, not long. I’ve got some things to attend to, but I can do it at Red Hill just as well as here, I think.” “Go up and pack, and I’ll come back in an hour.” He rose. “What a weight this lifts off me!” And his appearance confirmed his words. “But I’m gladdest of all because it vindicates your good sense. I knew my daughter would see I was doing what was best for her, would see it just as soon as her intelligence regained control.” Beatrice had risen; at this last sentence she sat down again with a dazed expression. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, father,” said she, hesitatingly. “I’m afraid I misunderstood you.” Richmond saw he had gone too far--probably not much too far, but still beyond where her mood of penitence had carried her--as yet. “Let’s not discuss disagreeable things,” said he hurriedly. “Do your packing and let’s get home. Once we get there everything else can be settled easily.” But Beatrice, after trying in vain to arrest his evading glance, kept her seat. “No, we must understand each other first,” said she decisively. “Now, Beatrice,” protested her father at the door into the hall, “don’t spoil your happiness and my own!” “Listen to me, father. I’ve not changed my mind about Peter--not in the least.” “Oh--bother Peter!” exclaimed he good-humoredly. “Do you still expect me to marry him?” Richmond saw there was no dodging the issue. He met it squarely. “I’m sure you’ll want to marry him. But I’m not going to force you--or try to.” “But listen. I haven’t changed my mind about Roger, either.” “Well--well,” said Richmond, still good-humored though not so easily. “It’d be foolish for us to quarrel about him. You say he has refused you.” “Yes--but I haven’t given him up.”