"
"An admission of your own obstinacy," he answered, tartly.
"That may be the right term for it," I returned, "but I hardly think
it is. Theoretically, Lucia has belonged to me the past four years.
An idea, a habit of the mind, is full grown and has some strength at
four years of age."
My father said nothing, but lapsed into the silence of defeat or of
contempt, and we pursued our breakfast.
"Will you let me have the victoria this morning?" I said, after a
long silence. "She wants me to drive her to the Academy."
"Of course; I'm glad you can find something to do here. I'm afraid
of its seeming dull to you after Paris."
I looked up with elevated eyebrows.
"And wherein do you imagine the gaiety of Paris consisted?" I asked.
"Oh, I've no doubt you found plenty of amusement there," he
answered, with an indulgent smile.
"I assure you there was not one single hour of the whole time that
was not spent in work or thought," I said, seriously.
He laughed.
"I am delighted to hear it, I'm sure, Victor," he said, with the air
of a person who accepts the general truth of a statement with a
large reservation of their own opinion on the details of it.
However, I did not care. I had worked for my own sake; lived
correctly for my own sake--and whether another knew it or not
mattered to me not at all.
"No; on the contrary, I am very pleased to be back," I said.
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