There was a considerable silence. Peter pulled frowningly at his cigar;
it had gone out but he was too absorbed to notice it, and mechanically
pulled on. Presently he raised his head and looked at Varney.
"Well? This ends it, I suppose? You'll go back to New York this
afternoon?"
"No," said Varney, "I'm going to stay and carry it through just as I
expected."
Peter tapped the chair-arm with his heavy fingers. "Why?"
"Because--well, I promised to, and on the strength of my promise, Uncle
Elbert has gone to trouble and expense for one thing, and has pinned
high hopes on me, for another. I had my chance to ask questions and make
terms and stipulations--and I didn't do it. That was my fault. I am not
even sure that he meant to deceive me. I have no right to break a
contract because I find that my part in it is going to be harder than I
thought."
"This business about her age changes everything. Carstairs has no legal
rights over a nineteen-year-old daughter."
"Legal rights! My dear Peter, you never supposed I thought I was doing
anything legal, did you? No, no; the moral part of it has been my prop
and stay all along, and that still holds. I promised without conditions,
and I'll go ahead on the same terms."
"Give me a match," said Peter thoughtfully. "Maybe you are right,
Larry," he added presently. "I only wanted to point out another way of
looking at it. I stand absolutely by your decision. You think that this
girl is wrong-headed and obstinate, and that her father has a moral
right to have her, over age or not. This--discovery makes it a pretty
serious business, but of course you've thought of all that. But--will it
be possible now?"
"I have invited her," said Varney, with a light laugh, "to lunch on the
_Cypriani_ on Thursday with two or three other Hunston friends."
"Well?"
"She accepted with every mark of pleasure. Great men like Stanhope, it
seems, require no introduction: it beats me. The point now is to find
the other Hunston friends."
"Hare and his sister, Mrs. Marne--the very thing!--chaperon and all!
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