"
He flung up his hand. "I can't argue it, Hilda. I can't analyze it.
But it is all wrong. In all the years that you worked for me, while I
laughed at you, I respected you. But I don't respect you now."
She shrugged. "Do you think I care? And a man's respect after all is
rather a cold thing, isn't it? But I am sorry you feel as you do about
it. I should have been glad to have you wish me happiness."
"Happiness--" His anger seemed to die suddenly. "You won't find
happiness, Hilda, if you separate a son from his father."
"Did he tell you that? I had nothing to do with it. His father was
angry at his--interference."
He stood up. "We won't discuss it. But you may tell him this. That I
am glad his son is poor, for my daughter will marry now the man and not
his money."
"Then he will marry her?"
"Yes. On Christmas Day."
She wished that she might tell him the date of her own wedding, but she
did not know it. The General seemed in no hurry. He had carefully
observed the conventions; had hired a housekeeper and a maid, and there
was, of course, the day nurse. Having thus surrounded his betrothed
with a sort of feminine bodyguard, he spoke of the wedding as happening
in the spring.
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