almost sarcastically.

A disturbed look came into Carnac's eyes. "I'd have liked my father to
be a genius. Then we'd have hit it off together. I don't ever feel the
things he does are the things I want to do; or the things he says are
those I'd like to say. He's a strange man. He lives alone. He never
was really near Fabian or me. We were his sons, but though Fabian is a
little bit like him in appearance, I'm not, and never was. I always feel
that--" He paused, and she took up the tale:

"That he wasn't the father you'd have made for yourself, eh!"

"I suppose that's it. Conceit, ain't it? Perhaps the facts are, I'm one
of the most useless people that ever wore a coat. Perhaps the things I
do aren't going to live beyond me."

"It seems as though your father's business is going to live after him,
doesn't it?" the girl asked mockingly. "Where are you going now?" she
added.

"Well, I'm going to take you home," he said, as he turned and walked by
her side down the hill.

"Denzil will be glad to see you. He almost thinks I'm a curse."

Carnac smiled. "All genius is at once a blessing or a curse. And what
does Denzil think of me?"

"Oh--a blessing and a curse!" she said whimsically.