“And you believe he would have a right to do that?” she demanded, wheeling upon me fiercely. “You believe that he would have a right to compel her obedience, to force her into this marriage, to make her miserable?”
“Yes,” I answered, after a moment’s thought, “I am sure he would. The law is very clear.”
“Oh, the law!” she cried, impatiently. “I was not thinking of the law—I care nothing for the law—a poor, stumbling device of stupid men, whose meaning even they do not understand! Would he have the right?”
“Yes,” I repeated, “I believe he would. He had passed his word.”
“And his word is of more importance than his daughter’s happiness?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.
“Undoubtedly,” I answered, feeling myself on firm ground at last. “His honor is of more importance to him than anything else on earth.”
“Honor!” she echoed, contemptuously. “An empty word men frighten women with!”
“No!” I cried. “A rock to cling to in time of storm, even as I am clinging to it now.”
She sat for a moment looking at me darkly.
“You men are all alike,” she said at last. “Lords of creation, before whom we women must bow in all humility.”