my dear daughter a question." St. John asked it with eagerness. "Which is it to be, Peggy?"
She blushed deeply.
"You are interested in Aladdin O'Brien?"
Her head drooped a little.
"Yes, papa."
The senator sighed.
"Thank you, dear," he said. "That is all I wanted to know. I had hoped that it would be otherwise. Peggy," he said, "I love that other young man like a son."
"Peter?"
"I have always hoped that you would see him as I have seen him. I would be happy if I thought that I could leave you in such strong young hands. I trust him absolutely."
"Papa."
"Well, dear?"
"You don't like Aladdin?"
"He is not steady, Margaret." The simple word was pregnant with meaning as it fell from the senator.
