Malcolm ground his heel into the rug. “I don’t consider it your business,” he declared. “You’re butting in where—”
“No, no, I ain’t. It’s my business, and business is just what it is. Your ma knows that. She and I had a real confidential up and down talk on love and marriage, and she’s the one that proved to me that marryin’ in high society, like yours and the kind Caroline’s been circulatin’ in, was business and mighty little else. There’s a business contract between you and my niece. We want to know how soon it can be carried out, that’s all.”
The young man looked desperately at the door; but the captain’s broad shoulders blocked the way towards it. He hesitated, scowled, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, surrendered.
“How can I marry?” he demanded sullenly. “Confound it! my salary isn’t large enough to pay my own way, decently.”
“Malcolm!” cried his mother, warningly.
“Well, Mater, what the devil’s the use of all this? You know.... By Jove! you ought to!”
“Hold on, young feller! I don’t understand. Your wages ain’t large enough, you say? What do you mean? You was goin’ to be married, wasn’t you?”
Mrs. Dunn plunged to the rescue, a forlorn hope, but desperate, and fighting to the end.
“An outrage!” she blurted. “Malcolm, I forbid you to continue this disgusting conversation. Caroline, my poor child, I don’t blame you for this, but I call on you to stop it at once. My dear, I—”
She advanced toward the girl with outstretched arms. Caroline recoiled.