“Papa, I do not understand you in this mood at all,” Editha said, with some hauteur; “but I will say, once for all, that I think you are exceedingly unkind, as well as unreasonable. What possible objection can you have to Earle in a moral point of view?”
A gleam of malicious amusement flashed over his face as he answered:
“You must excuse me, Editha, but—really—I should not presume to set myself up as a judge upon Mr.—ah—Wayne’s morals—nor indeed upon the morals of any one.”
“Then I do not consider that you have any right, for a mere prejudice, to ruin both his life and mine—our united happiness depends upon this union; and, papa, I shall marry Mr. Wayne—if not with your consent, then without it,” she concluded, firmly.
“My dear, allow me to repeat, you cannot marry Mr. Wayne.”
“And I repeat that I shall do so.”
Mr. Dalton chuckled again.
“Mr. Wayne will, I suppose, be very proud to bestow his name upon you,” he said, significantly.
“Allow me to ask what you mean to insinuate by that assertion?” Earle here interposed, flushing deeply.
“Wayne is a name that one might well be proud of, if one had a right to it,” he answered, maliciously.