Mr. Briggerland's jaw dropped.
"What?" he almost shrieked.
She nodded.
"We are going to be married next week," she said, "and the little scene you witnessed has nothing whatever to do with you."
The effect of these words on Mordon was magical. The malignant frown which had distorted his face cleared away. He looked from Jean to Briggerland as though it were impossible to believe the evidence of his ears.
"François and I love one another," Jean went on in her even voice. "We have quarrelled to-night on a matter which has nothing to do with anybody save ourselves."
"You're—going—to—marry—him—next—week?" said Mr. Briggerland dully. "By God, you'll do nothing of the sort!"
She raised her hand.
"It is too late for you to interfere, father," she said quietly. "François and I shall go our way and face our own fate. I'm sorry you disapprove, because you have always been a very loving father to me."
That was the first hint Mr. Briggerland had received that there might be some other explanation for her words, and he became calmer.