"Are you going to vote your pulp stock with his ?" Mr.Stevens' eyes twinkled, but his tone was conservative gravity itself.
"Well, since it's a purely business deal it would not be a very wise thing to do; and though Sam Turner is a mighty fine boy, I don't think I shall." "But you will!" she vigorously protested.

"Why, father, you wouldn't for a minute vote against your own son-in-law!" "No, I wouldn't!" declared Mr.Stevens emphatically, and suddenly drew her to him and kissed her; and she clung about his neck half laughing and half crying.
Do you suppose there is anything in telepathy?
It would seem so, for it was at this moment that Sam stepped up on the porch.

They in the parlor heard his voice, and Mr.Stevens immediately slipped out the back way in order not to be _de trop_ a second time.

Now Sam could not possibly have known what had been said in the parlor, and yet when he found his way in there, he and Miss Josephine, without any palaver about it, without exchanging a solitary word, or scarcely even a look, just naturally fell into each other's arms.

Neither one of them made the first move.