"Where is my father?" asked Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward Lady Crawford had brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately and will have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know me better before long."
Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but Dorothy had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager for the fray. When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always wanted to do it quickly.
Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that moment he entered the room.
"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones. "You have come just in time to see the last flickering flame of your fine marriage contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does it not make a beautiful smoke and blaze?"
"Did you dare—"
"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.
"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the evidence of his eyes.
"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.
"By the death of Christ—" began Sir George.
"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl interrupted. "You must not forget the last batch you made and broke."