“I’m glad you feel like that, darling,” said Crystal, “because it isn’t Eddie I’m engaged to, but Ben Moreton. He’s waiting downstairs now.”
Mr. Cord started up—his eyes shining like black flames.
“By God! Crystal,” he said, “you sha’n’t marry that fellow—Eugenia—perhaps—but not you.”
“But, father, you said yourself, you thought he was a fine—”
“I don’t care what I said,” replied Mr. Cord, and, striding to the door, he flung it open and called in a voice that rolled about the stone hall: “Mr. Moreton, Mr. Moreton! Come up here, will you?”
Ben came bounding up the stairs like a panther. Cord beckoned him in with a sharp gesture and shut the door.
“This won’t do at all, Moreton,” he said. “You can’t have Crystal.”
Ben did not answer; he looked very steadily at Cord, who went on:
“You think I can’t stop it—that she’s of age and that you wouldn’t take a penny of my money, anyhow. That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
“That’s it,” said Ben.