“I am sure they couldn’t be any more after ‘Miss Millionaire’ over there than here.”  She began calmly enough, but grew vehement as she continued:  “How many of the proposals that I have had from my own countrymen during the past two years have been for me, the girl, and not merely for your daughter?”

Her father, having stirred up her resentment, now tried to soothe it down again.

“You must not get cynical, little girl.  Every advantage in this world must have its corresponding disadvantage.  I merely want you to follow your extremely sensible and well-balanced head.  Only, remember,” he added with bantering good-humor, “I am not over keen about foreigners, so don’t bring a little what-is-it back with you, and expect because it has a long string of titles dangling to it, that it will be welcomed with any enthusiasm by your doting father!  So, away with you!” He again looked at his watch.  “Better get your things together; you haven’t any too much time.”

As soon as Nina left him, instead of rejoining his wife and Derby he sat at his desk and was immediately absorbed in making figures with the stub of a pencil on the back of an envelope.  He was still there when Nina, in coat and furs, came downstairs again to the library, where her mother and Derby were now waiting.

“Well, are you ready at last?  Where is your father?  What is he doing now?” her mother demanded with a pout, as if his absence were quite Nina’s fault, and as if whatever his occupation might be it especially annoyed her.  She fluttered to the doorway of his study and looked in.

“James, I really think you might give some thought to your family.  Nina is going now.”  She spoke in a babyish, aggrieved tone.  He did not look up, and Mrs. Randolph did not repeat her remark; she turned instead to her daughter.  “Go in and tell your father that I think he might pay you some attention.”

Nina went over behind his chair, and gently put her cheek down to his.  She did not interrupt him, but let him finish the calculation he was doing; and he turned to her after about a minute.

“All right, sweetheart, come along.”

Having put his envelope in his pocket, he dismissed whatever it meant completely from his mind, and Nina held his undivided attention as he went down the steps with her to the motor, into which Derby had already put Mrs. Randolph.  As soon as they were all in and the machine started, Nina leaned forward and called to the butler, “Good-by, Dawson!” And for once the man’s face lost its imperturbability, as he answered fervently, “Good-by, miss, and a safe return—­home!”

“Safe return—­home.”  For a moment the question entered her head—­was there any doubt of her returning?  With the apprehension came also a slight sense of excitement—­but soon she had forgotten.  While they sped toward the dock, Mrs. Randolph, possibly a little piqued that her daughter could want to spend the winter away from her, showed her authority by endless directions and counsels.  As she completely monopolized the conversation as far as Nina was concerned, the two men talked together, and Nina’s responses gradually drifted into a series of “Yes, Mamma’s,” to admonitions that were but half heard, until her wandering attention was brought up with a sharp turn by her mother’s impatient exclamation: