He looked so confident, so masterfully sure of himself, so little like a dreamer, and so much like a doer, that Grace was impressed.
"Can you?" she asked, more eagerly than Mr. Goodchild liked to see. But then H. R. had never kissed him.
"With your hand for the prize and your love for my reward? Can you ask me if I can?"
"Yes!" he said. "But of course I'll need your help."
"My help?" Doubt came back into her eyes.
"Yes. This way." He took her in his arms and kissed her.
Mrs. Goodchild stared, open-eyed. Mr. Goodchild grew purple, and shouted:
H. R. turned to him and said, "This is all right." And again he pressed his lips to hers and kept them pressed this time.
"I won't have it!" shrieked Mr. Goodchild, going toward the young people, one fist upraised.
H. R. ceased kissing, and spoke rebukingly:
"What do you want me to do? Kiss her in the vestibule before ringing the door-bell, as if we were plebeian sweethearts? Or in a taxi in the Park? Listen: _Fear not to intrust your daughter to a man who never kisses her save in the sight of those who brought her into this world!_" H. R. spoke so aphoristically that Mr. Goodchild thought it was a quotation from Ecclesiastes.
H. R. took the ring out of his waistcoat pocket and gave it to Grace.
It was a magnificent green diamond, the rarest of all. Mrs. Goodchild rose quickly and said, "Let me see it!" Mother-like, being concerned with her only daughter's happiness, she took the ring to the window.
"Say, Big Chief," H. R. asked his prospective father-in-law, "do I get the sand--do I get some slices of bread with some slices of viands, two breads to one viand, and a cup of tea?"
"Tea be hanged! Have a man's drink," hospitably and diplomatically said Mr. Goodchild. There was still a chance of escaping. He knew what violent opposition had done to sentimental daughters.
"Yes, but you'll have to allow us a decent rate of interest on our balances."
"How much do you carry?" asked Mr. Goodchild, carelessly.
"Enough for Dawson to offer three per cent. But let us not talk business here. I'll call on you to-morrow.
"All right. But Dawson can't do it, not even on time deposits, and--"
"Scotch for mine," said H. R. "Is Frederick coming?"
Mr. Goodchild was, after all, a gentleman. He rang for Frederick. He also was thirsty.