"Compare them? Not for one little minute, mother, dear! For Mary has brains and—"
"Stop!" exploded Mrs. De Peyster, in majestic rage. "Young man, have you considered the social disgrace you are plunging us all into? But—but surely you cannot be in earnest!"
He looked imperturbably up into her face. "Not in earnest, mother? I'm as earnest as a preacher on Sunday."
"Then—then—"
She choked with her words. Before she could get them out, Jack was on his feet and had an arm around her shoulders.
"Come, mother, don't be angry—please!" he cried with warm boyish eagerness. "Before you say another word, let me bring Mary to see you. I can get her here before you go on board. The sight of her will show you how right I am. She is the dearest, sweetest—"
"Stop!" She caught his arm. "I shall not see this—this Mary person!"
"No?"
She was the perfect figure of wrath and pride and confident power of domination. "I shall never see her! Never! And what is more," she continued, with the energy of one who believes her will to be equivalent to the accomplished fact, "you are going to give up, yes, and entirely forget, all those foolish things you have just been speaking of!"
He gazed squarely back into her flashing eyes. His face had tightened, and at that moment there was a remarkable likeness between the two faces, usually so dissimilar.