Carrie shook her head resolutely. 'I'm not a baby. I've been in love with him more than a year.'
'Upon my word!' said Fenwick; 'who allowed you to be in love with him? And has it never occurred to you—lately—that you'd have to ask my leave?'
Carrie hesitated. 'In Canada I wouldn't have to,' she said, at last, decidedly.
'Oh! they've abolished the Fifth Commandment there, have they?'
'No, no. But the girls choose for themselves!' said Carrie, tossing back her brown curls with the slightest touch of defiance.
Fenwick observed her, his brow clouding.
'And you suppose that I'm going to say "Yes" at once to this mad proposal?—that I'm going to give you up altogether, just as I've got you back? I warn you at once, I shall not consent to any such thing!'
There was silence. Fenwick sat staring at her, his lips moving, angry sentences of authority and reproach forming themselves in his mind—but without coming to speech. It was intolerable, inhuman—that at this very moment, when he wanted her most, this threat of fresh loss should be sprung upon him. She was his—his property. He would not give her up to any Canadian fellow, and he altogether disapproved of such young love-affairs.
'Father,' said Carrie, after a moment, 'when George asked me—we didn't know—'
'About me? Well, now you do know,' said Fenwick, roughly. 'I'm here—and I have my rights.'