At just about that moment Mr. Meredith, in the Greyton home, was reading a card on which appeared the name, "Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert." Having read it, he snorted his indignation and went into the reception-room. Dick arose to greet him and offered a hand, which was promptly declined.
"I'd like to ask you, Mr. Meredith," Dick began with a certain steely coldness in his manner, "just why you object to my attention to your daughter, Dorothy?"
"You know well enough!" raged the old man.
"It is because of the trouble I had in Harvard with your son, Harry. Well and good, but is that all? Is that to stand forever?"
"You proved then that you were not a gentleman," declared the old man savagely. "You're a puppy, sir."
"Mr. Meredith ... was reading a card on which appeared the name 'Mr. Richard Hamilton Herbert'"
"If you didn't happen to be the father of the girl I'm in love with I'd poke you in the nose," Dick replied, almost cheerfully. "Where is your son now? Is there no way I can place myself right in your eyes?"
"No!" Mr. Meredith thundered. "An apology would only be a confession of your dishonour!"
Dick was nearly choking, but managed to keep his voice down.