"
"Indeed," said Mr. Granger, again looking at him with a puzzled air,
"and what may you want to see me about? Not but what I am always at your
service, as you know," he added apologetically.
"This," he answered, suddenly seizing the clergyman by the coat in a way
that made him start.
"What--my coat, do you mean?"
"Don't be so foolish, Mr. Granger. No, about Beatrice."
"Oh. indeed, Mr. Davies. Nothing wrong at the school, I hope? I think
that she does her duties to the satisfaction of the committee, though I
admit that the arithmetic----"
"No! no, no! It is not about the school. I don't wish her to go to the
school any more. I love her, Mr. Granger, I love her dearly, and I want
to marry her."
The old man flushed with pleasure. Was it possible? Did he hear aright?
Owen Davies, the richest man in that part of Wales, wanted to marry
his daughter, who had nothing but her beauty. It must be too good to be
true!
"I am indeed flattered," he said. "It is more than she could expect--not
but what Beatrice is very good-looking and very clever," he added
hastily, fearing lest he was detracting from his daughter's market
value.
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