Section 4

Sir Richmond Hardy was not the only man who was thinking intently about Miss Grammont at that particular moment.  Two gentlemen were coming towards her across the Atlantic whose minds, it chanced, were very busily occupied by her affairs.  One of these was her father, who was lying in his brass bed in his commodious cabin on the Hollandia, regretting his diminishing ability to sleep in the early morning now, even when he was in the strong and soothing air of mid-Atlantic, and thinking of V.V. because she had a way of coming into his mind when it was undefended; and the other was Mr. Gunter Lake on the Megantic, one day out from Sandy Hook, who found himself equally sleepless and preoccupied.  And although Mr. Lake was a man of vast activities and complicated engagements he was coming now to Europe for the express purpose of seeing V.V. and having things out with her fully and completely because, in spite of all that had happened, she made such an endless series of delays in coming to America.

Old Grammont as he appeared upon the pillow of his bed by the light of a rose-shaded bedside lamp, was a small-headed, grey-haired gentleman with a wrinkled face and sunken brown eyes.  Years of business experience, mitigated only by such exercise as the game of poker affords, had intensified an instinctive inexpressiveness.  Under the most solitary circumstances old Grammont was still inexpressive, and the face that stared at the ceiling of his cabin and the problem of his daughter might have been the face of a pickled head in a museum, for any indication it betrayed of the flow of thought within.  He lay on his back and his bent knees lifted the bed-clothes into a sharp mountain.  He was not even trying to sleep.

Why, he meditated, had V.V. stayed on in Europe so much longer than she need have done?  And why had Gunter Lake suddenly got into a state of mind about her?  Why didn’t the girl confide in her father at least about these things?  What was afoot?  She had thrown over Lake once and it seemed she was going to turn him down again.  Well, if she was an ordinary female person that was a silly sort of thing to do.  With her fortune and his—­you could buy the world.  But suppose she was not all ordinary female person....  Her mother hadn’t been ordinary anyhow, whatever else you called her, and no one could call Grammont blood all ordinary fluid. ...  Old Grammont had never had any delusions about Lake.  If Lake’s father hadn’t been a big man Lake would never have counted for anything at all.  Suppose she did turn him down.  In itself that wasn’t a thing to break her father’s heart.

What did matter was not whether she threw Lake over but what she threw him over for.  If it was because he wasn’t man enough, well and good.  But if it was for some other lover, some good-looking, worthless impostor, some European title or suchlike folly—!