"Oh, you could love him as much as you like," said her father, carelessly, "but if he were really a pauper, you shouldn't marry him. I'd see to that."
Dorinda walked round the table and bent over her father with a look on her face which made him push back his chair. "You would see to nothing," she said, very distinctly, and bringing her face close to that of Mallien. "It is my will and pleasure to marry Rupert, and nothing you can say or do will prevent my becoming his wife. You understand?"
"Who said anything otherwise," growled Mallien savagely, yet retreating dexterously. "As things stand, I am willing you should marry him. And, as you talk to me in that way, the sooner you become his wife and leave me alone the better it will be. Marry to-morrow if you like."
"I see," said Dorinda, whose face was perfectly colorless. "You want the extra five hundred a year to buy this blue sapphire you speak of."
"Partly. But I also want you to marry Rupert before Carrington--the beast--squeezes him like a lemon."
"There is no chance of any squeezing," said Dorinda coldly. "Rupert is quite capable of looking after himself, even if Mr. Carrington were after his money, which I see no reason to think that he is."
"I do! Carrington's a man on the market, if you know what that means."
"I don't. What does it mean?"
"One who lives from hand to mouth; one who is always on the make; one who doesn't mind what he does so long as he can extract a fiver. Rupert's a fool, and Carrington isn't. There, you have my opinion in a nutshell."
"I think you are making a great fuss over nothing, father," said Dorinda, with disdain. "But I am glad that Mr. Carrington's visit is likely to hasten our marriage. We can get married next month, and then you can buy the sapphire when we are on our honeymoon."