I lied. I was afraid of him now.
"No," I said.
For a man who did not love a girl he was the most violently jealous person I have ever known. When he got through questioning me about Dick, he started in all over again about Robert Bennet. I foresaw that we were to have a pretty quarrelsome Christmas, so I tried my best to change the subject.
I showed him all the photographs on my bureau, of my father, my mother, and my thirteen brothers and sisters, and told him about each of them. He listened with seeming politeness, and then swept the whole matter aside with:
"Hang your family! I'm not interested in them. Now, about this Bennet—" and he started in all over again.
Finally, thoroughly exasperated, I turned on him and said:
"You have no right to question or accuse me like this. No man has that right unless I specially give it to him."
He said roughly:
"Give me the right then, Nora."