Now do you care for _any_ of the shows, plays, balls, and other tom-fooleries that occupy you day and night?
I pause for a reply, my daughter." "No, papa, I do not," she answered, in a still lower tone.
"Then why the deuce do you go to them ?" demanded the banker.
His daughter's soft, gray eyes sank beneath his scrutinizing gaze, but she did not answer.

How _could_ she confess that she went out into company daily and nightly only in the hope of seeing again the one man to whom she had given her unsought heart, and for whose presence her very soul seemed famishing.
"What is it that you _do_ care for, then, Salome ?" demanded her father, varying his question.
Her head sank upon her bosom, but still she did not answer.

How could she tell him that she cared only for a man who did not care for her.
"This is unbearable!" burst forth the banker.

"Here you are with every indulgence that affection can yield you, every luxury that money can give you, and yet you are not well nor content.

What ails you girl?
Are you pining after your convent?
Set fire to it.