The deep
instinctive jealousy of the primordial father was still strong in old
Grammont's blood. It would be pleasant to go about with her on his
right hand in Paris, HIS girl, straight and lovely, desirable and
unapproachable,--above that sort of nonsense, above all other masculine
subjugation.
"V.V., I'm going to make a man of you...."
His mind grew calmer. Whatever she wanted in Paris should be hers. He'd
just let her rip. They'd be like sweethearts together, he and his girl.
Old Grammont dozed off into dreamland.
Section 5
The imaginations of Mr. Gunter Lake, two days behind Mr. Grammont upon
the Atlantic, were of a gentler, more romantic character. In them V.V.
was no longer a daughter in the fierce focus of a father's jealousy, but
the goddess enshrined in a good man's heart. Indeed the figure that the
limelight of the reverie fell upon was not V.V. at all but Mr. Gunter
Lake himself, in his favourite role of the perfect lover.
An interminable speech unfolded itself. "I ask for nothing in return.
I've never worried you about that Caston business and I never will.
Married to me you shall be as free as if you were unmarried. Don't I
know, my dear girl, that you don't love me yet. Let that be as you wish.
I want nothing you are not willing to give me, nothing at all.
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