"I'm sorry. I can't ask you to stay without first consulting my father."

"Go ahead. Ask him."

She raised her hand a little; the thought seemed to bring her to the
verge of trembling, as though he were asking a sacrilege.

"Why not?" he urged.

She did not answer, but, instead, her eyes sought the old, woman, as if
to gain her interposition; she burst instantly into speech.

"Which there's no good talking any more," declared the ancient vixen.
"Are you wanting to make trouble for her with the colonel? Be off, young
man. It ain't the first time I've told you you'd get nowhere in this
house!"

There was no possible answer left to Donnegan, and he did as usual the
surprising thing. He broke into laughter of such clear and ringing
tone--such infectious laughter--that the old woman blinked in the midst
of her wrath as though she were seeing a new man, and he saw the lips of
the girl parted in wonder.

"My father is an invalid," said the girl. "And he lives by strict rules.
I could not break in on him at this time of the evening."

"If that's all"--Donnegan actually began to mount the steps--"I'll go in
and talk to your father myself."