Taking upon himself the idea of suggesting Susy's escapade, he confessed the fault.

The old man gazed into his frank eyes with a thoughtful, half-compassionate smile.

"I was just thinking of giving you a holiday with--with Don Juan Robinson." The unusual substitution of this final title for the habitual "your cousin" struck Clarence uneasily.

"But we will speak of that later.

Sit down, my son; I am not busy.