The Major was deaf to the warning.
"You're nothing but——" he choked, "You're nothing but a N.C.O!"
The assertion goaded. Still Hector kept his temper. After all, this was Frances' father, who could make or mar their lives.
"That's true—nothing but a Sergeant-Major. From your point of view, sir, that's my misfortune. But many N.C.O.s are gentlemen. Anyway, I'm not asking your daughter to marry a Sergeant-Major who will be a Sergeant-Major for ever. I've already told you, sir, of my prospects."
"Prospects——" muttered the Major, "prospects are—prospects, sir, nothing more. To me you're a ranker and always will be. Have you got your recommendation for a Commission yet?" he concluded swiftly.
"No, sir."
"Well, then—but, good God, what's the use of my wasting time? I don't care whether you've a thousand recommendations! I look for something better for my daughter than a man in the ranks—or an officer who's served in the ranks. Confound it, they're all one to me—understand? My God, it's like your—your colossal impertinence——!"
He flashed into fury.
Hector had paled under his tan. He put out a hand.
"Steady, sir, please. Let's take this thing quietly."