"You shall never marry the scamp, I tell you," cried Scarse, angrily. "Let alone his character, which is bad, he is the cousin of that scoundrel Malet, who is a bigoted Imperialist--one who is doing his best to ruin this country by advocating annexation of all and everything. He is one of those who are urging on this war. I hate the man."
"Only because you differ from him in politics."
"No, on other grounds which do not concern you. I know Malet--none better--and I would gladly see him dead."
"Father!" Brenda was amazed at the savage energy of the old man. "What has Mr. Malet done to you that you should hate him so?"
"Never mind! I hate him and I hate that young Burton."
"Well, father," said Brenda, quietly, "you need not have shown it quite so plainly to-day. Harold said you met him this afternoon and cut him." This was a tentative remark, as Brenda was certain her father could not have been out.
"Met Burton!" said he, raising himself angrily. "What do you mean, child?"
"Were you not out to-day?"
"No, I have not left this room."
"But Harold said he saw you with a snuff-colored coat and a crape scarf round your throat. Father!" Brenda shrieked, "what is it?"