The father looked at Mary with a reproach that was pathetic.
“See,” he said, and his heavy voice was for once thin with passion, “see what you've done to my boy!”
Mary had held her eyes on Dick. There had been in her gaze a conflict of emotions, strong and baffling. Now, however, when the father spoke, her face grew more composed, and her eyes met his coldly. Her voice was level and vaguely dangerous as she answered his accusation.
“What is that compared to what you have done to me?”
Gilder stared at her in honest amazement. He had no suspicion as to the tragedy that lay between him and her.
“What have I done to you?” he questioned, uncomprehending.
Mary moved forward, passing beyond the desk, and continued her advance toward him until the two stood close together, face to face. She spoke softly, but with an intensity of supreme feeling in her voice.
“Do you remember what I said to you the day you had me sent away?”
The merchant regarded her with stark lack of understanding.
“I don't remember you at all,” he said.