“‘Not another word! I’ll show you, miss—’”
“Is that honest, father? Is that really the impression you have of Roger Wade?”
The dangerous look reappeared in Richmond’s face—in his eyes, round his mouth.
“Now, don’t get angry, father. That would be confession, you know. One does not get angry in a discussion unless one is in the wrong.”
“Who wouldn’t get angry, seeing a girl like you bent on making a fool of herself.”
“If you were where you were when you started, and you met such a man as Roger, you’d be——”
“Don’t speak his name to me,” cried Richmond, twitching and squirming. “I ask you to take time to come to your senses.”
“I’ve tried that. When I don’t see him, it’s even clearer to me than when I do that I must marry him. Besides, if he weren’t on earth now, I still couldn’t marry the Hanky sort. Oh, father dear—can’t you see the change in me? As you say, I’m like you. Put yourself in my place. Would you marry the sort of person Hanky is—the sort all the Hankies are—if you could—” She sighed. “But I can’t. He won’t. Father, please help me!”
There was a conflict of expressions in Richmond’s face as she made this appeal movingly. It was sheer confession of fear of his own better self which loved his daughter, which respected the things she was now learning to respect—it was sheer confession when he flew into furious rage—the one mood where a human being is safe from the entreaties of heart and the counsels of higher intelligence. “You are crazy—plain crazy!” he cried in his most insulting tone. “There’s no excuse for you—none! Reasoning with you is time wasted.”