"Oh, father," said Walter, "why will you not see that the prize is a living woman, a woman with a will of her own, and not a French eagle, or the figure-head of a ship? Now do listen to reason."
"Not a word," said the Colonel, marching off.
"But excuse me," said Walter, "I have another thing far more important to speak to you about: this unhappy lawsuit."
"That's no business of yours, and I don't want your opinion of it; there is no more fight in you than there is in a hen-sparrow. I decline your company and your pacific twaddle; I have no patience with a muff;" and the Colonel marched off, leaving his son planted there, as the French say.
Walter, however, was not long alone; the interview had been watched from a distance by Mary. She now stole noiselessly on the scene, and laid her white hand upon her husband's shoulder before he was aware of her. The sight of her was heaven to him, but her first question clouded his happy face.
"Well, dear, have you propitiated him?"
Walter hung his head sorrowfully, and said hardly anything.
"He has been blustering at me all the time, and insists upon my cutting out Percy whether I can or not, and marrying Julia whether she chooses or not."
"Then we must do what I said. Indeed there is no other course. We must own the truth; concealment and deceit will not mend our folly."
"Oh, hang it, Mary, don't call it folly."