sigh. Then she looked straight at him.

"You are bothering entirely too much," she half faltered, in a tone
that was all but wistful. "Now, I'll make _you_ a promise if--if
you'll make _me_ one. You are afraid Dick Mostyn and I will never
come to--to an understanding, but it is all right. I know I must be
sensible, and I intend to be. I'm more practical than I look. Now,
here is what I am going to propose. Andy Buckton _may_ be at Atlantic
City with his mother, and I want you to treat them decently. If you
will be nice to them I will assure you that when Dick gets back from
the mountains he will propose and I will accept him."

"You talk as if you knew positively that he--"

"I understand him," the young lady said. "I know him even better than
you do, with all your business dealings together. Now, that will have
to satisfy you, and you've got to let me see Andy up there. You simply
must."

"Well, I don't care," the old man said, with a breath of relief. "This
is the first time you ever have talked any sort of sense on the
subject."

"I know nothing else will suit you," Irene said, with a look of
abstraction in her eyes, "and I have made up my mind to let you have
your way."

There was a tremulous movement to her breast, a quaver in her voice,
of which she seemed slightly ashamed, for she turned suddenly and left
the room.