Richmond gazed at her with marveling eyes. She was clairvoyant--this wonderful daughter of his! Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled. Her words came joyfully tumbling over each other: “Why is he in such a hurry to sail--to get rid of _my_ picture? Because he’s _afraid_! He distrusts himself. He’s fighting hard. He-- Father, he loves me!” “Beatrice,” said Richmond tenderly, “he will never marry. He is a man of the unshakable sort--of my sort----” Beatrice laughed. “You haven’t changed in this affair--oh, no!” Richmond smiled guiltily. “I should have said, he is a man whose resolves haven’t been shaken by age and by foolish paternal fondness long indulged.” “He is _afraid_! He is flying--flying from _love_!” Richmond’s face wore a look of deepest anxiety. “My dear, you will only distress yourself with false hopes. There are things about men--men like him--that you don’t understand.” “Of course. But there are also other things that _you_ don’t understand, father dear.” “The picture is at home. Won’t you come and see it?” “I must see him first. I must dress and go at once.” And she was up and was hastily gathering together the businesslike papers strewn upon the table among the breakfast dishes. “You’ll excuse me, father----” “I asked him to come and see you--to beg you to go home again.” She paused. “And he said?” “He refused at first. As I was leaving--I hoped--he might.” She reflected. “No, he’ll not come. Unless--but I’ll take no chances.” “I know he was touched by my appeal,” persisted her father. “Beatrice--go on with this dressmaking if you must. But--forgive me and let things be with us as they were before.” He stretched out trembling hands toward her. “You’re all I’ve got in the world--all I care for. I’m not ashamed or repentant for what I did. I did it because I thought it was for your good. But I’m sorry. I was mistaken.” “I do forgive you,” said the girl, “though I don’t like to say anything that sounds priggish and pious. But you can’t expect me to trust you, can you, father?” “I’ve tried to pay for those bonds, but he has sold them to some enemy of mine--and for a good price.” “Aren’t you ashamed about the bonds?” said the daughter with a roguish smile. “No,” replied Richmond doggedly. “In the circumstances--what I believed and everything--that was the right move.” Beatrice laughed with a touch of her old mirthfulness, with all her old adoration of his skill and courage. “You are so different!” cried she. “Not a bit a hypocrite. We’re friends again--until you try to undermine and ruin my dressmaking business.” “I’ll give you all the capital you want,” he eagerly declared. “No--thanks,” said she. “But--I’ll tell you what you may do. You may buy a block of Wauchong bonds I happen to own.” “_You_ did it?” cried he, delighted. “You may have them at a hundred and fifty. I always try to make a reasonable profit on a deal.” “I’ll send you a blank check.”