"Indeed! And what do you want to speak to me about?"
"Your letter."
"I think my letter was too clear to require further explanation," he said impatiently. "I told you my intentions."
"You did--and I have come to tell you they will not be carried out."
"Is that so?" said Beaumont, with a sneer. "Well, we'll see. Who will prevent me doing what I like?"
"I will."
"Really--I'm afraid you over-rate your powers, my dear Patience. You are a clever woman, no doubt--a very clever woman--but there are limits."
"As you observe, very truly, there are limits," she retorted fiercely, "and those limits you have overstepped. Do you think I am going to stand by and see you wring money out of my son?"
"Our son," he corrected gently. "You forget I am his father. As to wringing money out of him, that's a very unpleasant way of putting it. I simply propose to appeal to his common sense."
"Sit down," said Patience, suddenly. "I wish to speak to you."