"You appear to think that this is all that is essential so far as she is concerned," said Bodine, in bitter sarcasm.
"You do me wrong, sir," Houghton replied, flushing hotly. "Even if you should give your full consent, I, better than any one, know that my suit would be doubtful. But it would be hopeless did I not reveal to her my feelings and purposes."
"If she herself, then, informs you that it is hopeless, that would end the matter?"
"Certainly, after years of patient effort to induce her to think otherwise."
"I do not think you have shown any patience thus far, sir. You have scarcely more than met her before you enter, recklessly and selfishly, on a 'suit,' as you term it, which can only bring wretchedness to her and to those who have the natural right to her allegiance and love."
"You do me wrong again, Captain Bodine. I am no more reckless or selfish than any other man who would marry the girl he loves. By reason of circumstances over which I had no control I have met Miss Bodine, and she has inspired a sacred love, such as her mother inspired in you. You can find no serious fault with me personally, and I am not responsible for others. I have my own life to make or mar, and never to win Miss Bodine would mar it wofully. I am an educated man and her equal socially, although she is greatly my superior in other respects. I have the means with which to support her in affluence. I mean only good toward her and you. This is neither selfishness nor recklessness."
"Have you spoken to Mr. Houghton of your intentions?"
"Not yet, but I shall."
"You will find him as bitterly opposed to it all as I am."
"I think not. I shall be sorry beyond measure if you are right, but it can make no difference."