"And his family, Jimmy?"
"Damn his family!" risked the aroused Bulstrode.
Mrs. Falconer laughed.
"Really! It is casual of you! but you don't know them and can't! But they can quite spoil the whole thing as far as Molly is concerned. His tradition and race, his home and all it means to him—why you can't roughly run against all the old conventions like that, my dear man!"
"Well," said the ruthless gentleman, "then he can go and feed on their charity, can take to his flesh-pots and give up the girl. She is far too good for any foreign fortune-hunter anyway. You spoil a man, all of you. You'd prefer a disreputable roué to a cowboy with money in his pocket and a heart."
"Would it then prove to you De Presle-Vaulx's heart if he threw over his family and went West?"
"Yes," said the other quickly. "It would prove he loves the girl."
"You forget his mother."
Bulstrode fumed.
"I have not the honor to forget her; I don't know the Marquise de Presle-Vaulx."