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She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark.
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