"Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her. Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record—who, from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to—should you object to him as a husband for Jacky?"
The rancher was still unsuspecting.
"What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I should have no objection."
"Supposing," the money-lender went on, "she were unwilling, but was content to abide by your decision. What then?"
There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he answered.
"What I have said still holds good," he retorted a little hotly. "I will not influence the child."
"I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl."
There was an impressive silence after this announcement. "Poker" John stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache—to many his niece—it was preposterous—ludicrous. He would not take it seriously—he could not. It was a joke—and not a nice one.
He laughed—and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.
"Of course you are joking, Lablache," he said at last. "Why, man, you are old enough to be the girl's father."