“If you think I'll have that way out of it—”
“I tell you I will pay those expenses, every dollar, the next day, and Ina shall have her little festival. What more do you want?” demanded Carroll. “See here, Arms, you will take care of the girl better than I can. I am at the dogs fast enough, and the dogs' is not a desirable locality in which to see one's family. You can take care of Ina, and God knows I want you to have her, but have her you shall not unless you can show some lingering confidence in her father. Even at the dogs' a man may have a little pride left. Either we have the wedding as it is planned, and you trust me to settle the bills for it, or you can give up my daughter.”
Arms stood silent, looking at Carroll. “Very well,” he said, finally.
“All right, then,” said Carroll.
Arms remained staring at Carroll with a curious, puzzled expression.
“Good God! Arthur, how do you ever stand it living this sort of life?” he cried, suddenly.
“I have to stand it,” replied Carroll. “As well ask a shot fired from a cannon how it likes being hurled through the air. I was fired into this.”
“You ought to have had some power of resistance, some will of your own.”
“There are forces for every living man for which he has no power of resistance. Mine hit me.”
“If ever there was a damned, smooth-tongued scoundrel—” said Arms, retrospectively.