Fletcher. [More angry.] No! [He follows her.] And I won't leave this house, either. [Takes her hand.
Marion. Don't touch me!
Fletcher. I won't leave the house because it's mine. And so will you be!
Marion. No!
Fletcher. Yes, you will, because I'll buy you with your father's reputation!
Marion. With what!
Fletcher. With your father's good name.
Marion. You—scoundrel.
Fletcher. We are well mated, for you are the daughter of one! [Marion immediately touches the bell, which is heard ringing in the distance.] You had better dismiss the servant when he comes; I am sure you would rather he didn't hear all I have to say.
Marion. [Almost under her breath.] You cannot injure my father!