Arthur nodded, as stolid as an owl.
His father continued to search him with the same half-bewildered stare.
“What are you going to do, then?” he asked.
“She and I are going back, whatever happens.” Arthur said.
“And suppose they won’t let her go?”
“They’ll have to.”
“Have to!” Banks recited, raising his voice at the repetition of this foolish phrase. “And how in the world are you going to make ’em?”
“The Jervaises aren’t everybody,” Arthur growled.
“You’ll find they’re a sight too strong for the like of us to go against,” Banks affirmed threateningly.
Arthur looked stubborn and shook his head. “They aren’t what you think they are, father,” he began, and then, seeing the incredulity on the old man’s face, he went on in a slightly raised voice, “Well, I know they aren’t. I’ve been up there twice to-day. I saw Mr. Jervaise this morning; went to the front door and asked for him, and when I saw him I put it to him straight that I meant to—that we were going to get married.”