"Ah, Joe, you're going to forgive them."
"Forgive—him? I ain't settled with James yet."
"He was only bluffing," faltered Posy. "He told me so."
"Did he?" said her father.
James entered. He had recovered his self-possession, and something of his native impudence. Quinney, it was true, had outwitted him, but the great fact remained—Posy loved him.
"Stand you there, my lad!"
James remained near the door, thinking of Posy's three thousand pounds, which, unhappily, could not be touched till she was twenty-one. Men have, however, waited longer for less.
"So you was bluffing—hey?"
"Posy knew that I wouldn't injure you, sir."
"And you thought I was bluffing, but I wasn't. I'd sooner go to gaol—yes, I would—than see you married to my daughter. And why? Because you're after things."