"Well, to begin with, Betty won't have you, and, besides——"
"Well...?"
"Betty belongs to me!"
Holm jumped up from the sofa, and stood facing William, who sat quietly and calmly as ever.
"William—I should never have expected this of you. H'm, I've borne with a good deal, one way and another, and had a lot of low-down tricks played on me in my time, but this...."
"Betty's the only woman I've ever cared for, father; from the first time I set eyes on her I've...."
"A passing fancy, nothing more. A few weeks' holiday in Paris, and you'll have forgotten all about it."
"There you're mistaken. I'm serious for once."
"And I'm serious too. And this time I'm not going to give in."
Holm turned sharply on his heel and went down to the office. He had expected to find Betty there, but she was out. On the desk lay a note, in her writing, asking to be excused for leaving the office; she was not feeling well, and had gone home.