“He is an old offender, I believe,” said Kāra, leaning back in his chair and regarding the other with an amused expression. “It might benefit you to reflect that Miss Consinor’s good name has not been acquired on account of her father’s respectability, any more than through the reputation of her grandsire, who has grown old in iniquity. Therefore, I cannot believe that I have injured her in any way.”
A tinge of passionate hatred in the man’s voice as he referred to Lord Roane aroused Winston’s attention. Then, suddenly, a light broke upon him.
“See here, Kāra,” he said, sternly, “are you persecuting these people and plotting against them because of the old wrong that Roane did your grandmother, Hatatcha?”
“I am neither persecuting nor plotting against them,” declared Kāra. “Consinor has ruined himself unaided. As for his daughter, I have every object in protecting her from scandal.”
“What do you mean by that, sir?”
“I intend to marry her.”
At this cool statement Winston stared aghast. Then he gave a bitter laugh.
“That is absurd and impossible,” he said.
“Why so?”
“You are cousins.”