Mr. Pope held out an arresting hand. "I don't wish it. Let that be enough."
"Of course it isn't enough. I'm in love with her—and she with me. I'm an entirely reputable and decent person——"
"May I be allowed to judge what is or is not suitable companionship for my daughter—and what may or may not be the present state of her affections?"
"Well, that's rather the point we are discussing. After all, Marjorie isn't a baby. I want to do all this—this affair, openly and properly if I can, but, you know, I mean to marry Marjorie—anyhow."
"There are two people to consult in that matter."
"I'll take the risk of that."
"Permit me to differ."
A feeling of helplessness came over Trafford. The curious irritation Mr. Pope always roused in him began to get the better of him. His face flushed hotly. "Oh really! really! this is—this is nonsense!" he cried. "I never heard anything so childish and pointless as your objection——"
"Be careful, sir!" cried Mr. Pope, "be careful!"
"I'm going to marry Marjorie."