"So am I!"

Mortimer shrugged, and Cartwright wondered whether the fellow meant to
imply that his gambling was not important since he had married a rich
wife. The young man, however, hesitated and looked thoughtful.

"I don't know your object for wanting Shillito, but if my supposition's
near the mark, might I state that I approve? In fact, I'd begun to
wonder whether something ought not to be done. The fellow's plausible.
Not our sort, of course; but when a girl's romantic and obstinate--"

Cartwright stopped him. "Exactly! Well, I'm the head of the house and
imagine you can leave the thing to me. Perhaps it doesn't matter if your
sister is obstinate. I'm going to talk to Shillito."

He crossed the veranda, and Mortimer returned to his chair and
cigarette. He did not approve his step-father, but admitted that
Cartwright could be trusted to handle a matter like this. Mortimer's
fastidiousness was sometimes a handicap, but Cartwright had none.

Cartwright entered the smoking-room and crossed the floor to a table, at
which two or three men stood as if waiting for somebody. One was young
and tall. His thin face was finely molded, his eyes and hair were very
black, and his figure was marked by an agile grace.

He looked up sharply as Cartwright advanced.

"I want you for a few minutes," Cartwright said roughly, as if he gave
an order.