“That is an idle story,” said Potts.
“Save me!” cried Beatrice.
“I don’t know what to do—I suppose I’ve got to take you to the station, at any rate,” said the policeman, hesitatingly.
“Well,” said Potts to Beatrice, “if you do go to the station-house you’ll have to be handed back to me. You are under age.”
“It’s false!” cried Beatrice. “I am twenty.”
“No, you are not more than seventeen.”
“Langhetti can prove that I am twenty.”
“How? I have documents, and a father’s word will be believed before a paramour’s.”
This taunt stung Beatrice to the soul.
“As to your charge about my cruelty I can prove to the world that you lived in splendor in Brandon Hall. Every one of the servants can testify to this. Your morose disposition made you keep by yourself. You always treated your father with indifference, and finally ran away with a man who unfortunately had won your affections in Hong Kong.”