The question caught him a little off his guard. "A natural love of
adventure, I suppose," he said carelessly.

"Perfectly natural!" said Colina. "Was your father pleased?"

Gaviller began to see her drift. "No!" he said testily.

"And when you went back for her," Colina persisted, "didn't my mother
run away north with you, against the wishes of her parents?"

"Your mother was a saint!" cried Gaviller indignantly.

"Certainly," said Colina coolly, "but not the psalm-singing kind. What
do you expect of the child of such a couple?"

"Not another word!" cried Gaviller, banging the table--last refuge of
outraged fathers.

Colina was unimpressed. "Now you're simply raising a dust to conceal
the issue," she said relentlessly.

Gaviller chewed his mustache in offended silence.

Colina did not spare him. "Do you think you can make your child and
hers into a prim miss, to sit at home and work embroidery?" she
demanded. "Upon my word, if I were a boy I believe you'd suggest
putting me in a bank!"

John Gaviller helped himself to another egg with great dignity and