“It's the survival of the fittest, my dear,” said Ryder coldly.
“Oh!” cried Shirley, making a last appeal to the financier's heart of stone, “use your great influence with this governing body for good, not evil! Urge them to vote not in accordance with party policy and personal interest, but in accordance with their consciences—in accordance with Truth and Justice! Ah, for God's sake, Mr. Ryder! don't permit this foul injustice to blot the name of the highest tribunal in the Western world!”
Ryder laughed cynically.
“By Jove! Jefferson, I give you credit for having secured an eloquent advocate!”
“Suppose,” went on Shirley, ignoring his taunting comments, “suppose this daughter promises that she will never—never see your son again—that she will go away to some foreign country!”
“No!” burst in Jefferson, “why should she? If my father is not man enough to do a simple act of justice without bartering a woman's happiness and his son's happiness, let him find comfort in his self-justification!”
Shirley, completely unnerved, made a move towards the door, unable longer to bear the strain she was under. She tottered as though she would fall. Ryder made a quick movement towards his son and took him by the arm. Pointing to Shirley he said in a low tone:
“You see how that girl pleads your cause for you! She loves you, my boy!” Jefferson started. “Yes, she does,” pursued Ryder, Sr. “She's worth a thousand of the Rossmore woman. Make her your wife and I'll—”
“Make her my wife!” cried Jefferson joyously. He stared at his parent as if he thought he had suddenly been bereft of his senses.