“What, Mr. Ryder, you mean that you are going to help my father?”

“Not for his sake—­for yours,” he answered frankly.

Shirley hung her head.  In her moment of triumph, she was sorry for all the hard things she had said to this man.  She held out her hand to him.

“Forgive me,” she said gently, “it was for my father.  I had no faith.  I thought your heart was of stone.”

Impulsively Ryder drew her to him, he clasped her two hands in his and looking down at her kindly he said, awkwardly: 

“So it was—­so it was!  You accomplished the miracle.  It’s the first time I’ve acted on pure sentiment.  Let me tell you something.  Good sentiment is bad business and good business is bad sentiment—­that’s why a rich man is generally supposed to have such a hard time getting into the Kingdom of Heaven.”  He laughed and went on, “I’ve given ten millions apiece to three universities.  Do you think I’m fool enough to suppose I can buy my way?  But that’s another matter.  I’m going to Washington on behalf of your father because I—­want you to marry my son.  Yes, I want you in the family, close to us.  I want your respect, my girl.  I want your love.  I want to earn it.  I know I can’t buy it.  There’s a weak spot in every man’s armour and this is mine—­I always want what I can’t get and I can’t get your love unless I earn it.”

Shirley remained pensive.  Her thoughts were out on Long Island, at Massapequa.  She was thinking of their joy when they heard the news—­her father, her mother and Stott.  She was thinking of the future, bright and glorious with promise again, now that the dark clouds were passing away.  She thought of Jefferson and a soft light came into her eyes as she foresaw a happy wifehood shared with him.

“Why so sober,” demanded Ryder, “you’ve gained your point, your father is to be restored to you, you’ll marry the man you love?”

“I’m so happy!” murmured Shirley.  “I don’t deserve it.  I had no faith.”

Ryder released her and took out his watch.

“I leave in fifteen minutes for Washington,” he said.  “Will you trust me to go alone?”

“I trust you gladly,” she answered smiling at him.  “I shall always be grateful to you for letting me convert you.”

“You won me over last night,” he rejoined, “when you put up that fight for your father.  I made up my mind that a girl so loyal to her father would be loyal to her husband.  You think,” he went on, “that I do not love my son—­you are mistaken.  I do love him and I want him to be happy.  I am capable of more affection than people think.  It is Wall Street,” he added bitterly, “that has crushed all sentiment out of me.”

Shirley laughed nervously, almost hysterically.

“I want to laugh and I feel like crying,” she cried.  “What will Jefferson say—­how happy he will be!”

“How are you going to tell him?” inquired Ryder uneasily.

“I shall tell him that his dear, good father has relented and—­”