Oh, it is your mother that should be telling you all this, my poor girl, not your awkward, blundering old father," suddenly said the banker, breaking off in his discourse as his daughter hid her crimson face upon his shoulder.
"My dear, gentle father, no mother could be tenderer than you," murmured Salome.
"Tell me all, then, my darling.

It is the first wish of my heart to see you happily married.

And no trifling obstacle shall stand in the way of its accomplishment.

_Who is he, Salome ?_" he inquired, in a low whisper, as he passed his hand around her neck.
She did not answer, but she kissed and fondled his hand.
"You cannot bring yourself to tell me yet?
Well, take your own time, my love.

You will tell me some time or another," he continued, returning her soft caresses.
"Yes, I will tell you sometime, dear, good, tender father.