Richmond did not contradict this, even mentally. He said presently: “But I’ve talked with him and he won’t have her.”
Again Mrs. Richmond was taken by surprise—so much so that she said: “What did you say?”
Richmond showed his wild internal commotion. With glittering eyes and teeth suggesting that they were about to gnash he all but hissed: “Are you getting deaf? I said I had talked with him, and he won’t have her. I can’t make the man marry her—can I?”
In her excitement, in her amazement Mrs. Richmond leaned forward and said slowly: “Did you go to him and give him permission to marry Beatrice?”
“No,” Richmond confessed.
“Oh,” said his wife with sarcasm, “you went to forbid him to marry her. Why do you deceive me when we’re in such a dangerous position?”
“I didn’t deceive you,” growled he. “I went to make sure he didn’t want to marry her. We got along all right.”
Mrs. Richmond showed relief. “Then we’re in a position to make advances to him.”
“I’ll make no more advances!” cried he defiantly—blustering defiance.
“I suppose you’d rather see the newspapers full of your daughter making dresses in partnership with a maid and a chauffeur,” sneered Mrs. Richmond.