You marry
whom you blame please. I've been doing some tall thinking. Make your
own romance, duke or dry-goods clerk. You'd never hook up with
anything that wasn't a man. You're Irish. If he happens to be made,
all well and good; if not, why, I'll undertake to make him. And that's
a bargain. I don't want any alimony money in the Killigrew family."
She kissed him again and went into her bedroom. Kind-hearted,
impulsive old dad! In a week's time he would forget all about this
heart-to-heart talk, and shoo away every male who hadn't a title or a
million, or who wasn't due to fall heir to one or the other.
Nevertheless, she had long since made up her mind to build her own
romance. That was her right, and she did not propose to surrender it
to anybody. Her weary head on the pillow, she thought of the voices in
the fog. "A wager's a wager."
The next morning the fog was not quite so thick; that is, in places
there were holes and punctures. You saw a man's face and torso, but
neither hat nor legs. Again, you saw the top of a cab bowling along,
but no horse: phantasmally.
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