"Papa's very keen about the hotel," she continued, "and is going to
have the workmen break ground to-morrow. He says he'll have it up in two
months and ready to open, if he has to make the men work double time.
When you're manager, you won't mind what folks say."

There was no excuse for his further hesitation. He must speak out, but
he did it in a half-hearted way.

"But if I simply go away--WITHOUT being manager--I won't hear their
criticism either."

"What do you mean?" she said quickly.

"I've--I've been thinking of--of going back to San Francisco," he
stammered awkwardly.

A slight flush of contemptuous indignation passed over her face, and
gave it a strength and expression he had never seen there before. "Oh,
you've not reformed yet, then?" she said, under her scornful lashes.

"I don't understand you," he said, flushing.

"Father ought to have told you," she went on dryly, "that that woman has
gone off to the Springs with her husband, and you won't see HER at San
Francisco."

"I don't know what you mean--and your father seems to take an
unwarrantable interest in my affairs," said Reddy, with an anger that he
was conscious, however, was half simulated.