“Yes,” was the response.
Bollinger must have forgotten where he was, and who was present with him, for he lifted Camilla from her bed, and kissed her again and again.
“See here, young man,” said Papa Knight when he had recovered from his astonishment. “What in thunder do you mean?”
“This is a part of the cure,” Bollinger answered, “and you must not interrupt.”
“Take those kinds of cures somewhere else, you rascal; I don’t want any of them.”
“Neither do I want to give any of them to you,” Bollinger answered.
“Git out of my house!” roared the old man. “Git!”
“Before I go, allow me to tell you something which will no doubt surprise you. I love your daughter; she, in turn, loves me. Have we your permission to get married?”
Force of habit is strong, and, for answer, Papa Knight opened the door leading to the veranda, and prepared to treat Bollinger as he had treated many others who had asked him a similar question. But Bollinger was too quick for him. He caught the old man up as if he were a child, and placed him upon a chair.
“I’m determined to have your daughter, Mr. Knight, cost what it may. Will you give her to me, or shall I have to take recourse to my magnetic power to get what I want?”