'Why?'
Mr Rackstraw laughed. One of those nasty, sharp, metallic laughs that hit you like a bullet.
'How would you support my daughter?'
'I was thinking that you would help to some extent.'
'You were, were you?'
'I was.'
'Oh?'
Mr Rackstraw emitted another of those laughs.
'Well,' he said, 'it's off. You can take that as coming from an authoritative source. No wedding-bells for you.'
Clarence drew himself up, fire flashing from his eyes and a bitter smile curving his expressive lips.