"He has the mind of a navvy and the tastes of a bookmaker." And her voice was almost bitter as she spoke.
Her father laughed uneasily. "That's all nonsense, Mary!" he said. "But, tell me really, what do you think my chances are? You know the town now better than I do. Do you think I shall beat Stepaside?"
"He's not a man to be easily beaten," was her reply. "I believe that, unless——"
"Yes, unless what?"
"Unless extreme means are used, he will win."
"I will not be beaten!" said Mr. Bolitho, and his eyes flashed as he spoke. "That fellow insulted me in the Manchester Law Courts, and I was glad when he got six months. Fellows of his order need to be taught a lesson, and he shall be taught, too."
"I don't think you understand him, father," she said. "He's one of those men who will never be beaten. He'll rise above every difficulty, and move every obstacle out of his way. I don't know why it is, but I don't feel comfortable about this contest, and I feel afraid of him."
"Afraid, Mary!"
"Yes," replied the girl. "I am afraid. I know I've no reason to be, but whenever I think of him I become angry, and yet I don't know why I should be angry. In a sense, he makes me admire him. He came to Brunford a few years ago utterly poor and unknown, and now he's become quite a personality. He's just one of those strong men that always wins his way. And he hates you, too, father."
And then, without any apparent reason, the girl left the room.