George gave a choking sound, and his father’s eye turned fiercely upon him.
“Well, sir—what have you to say?”
“I—I—er—only that Mary can’t marry again now—er—under these new circumstances ... only the innocent partner....”
“You dare, Sir! Damn it all—I’ll believe in my own daughter’s innocence in spite of all the courts in the country.”
“I don’t mean that she isn’t innocent—er—in fact—but the decree has been given against her.”
“What difference does that make?—if she was innocent before the decree she’s innocent after it, no matter which way it goes. Damn you and your humbug, Sir. But it doesn’t matter in the least—she can marry again, whatever you say; the law allows it, so you can’t stop it. She shall be married in Leasan church.”
“She shall not, Sir.”
A deep bluish flush was on George’s cheek-bones as he rose to his feet. Sir John was for a moment taken aback by defiance from such an unexpected quarter, but he soon recovered himself.
“I tell you she shall. Leasan belongs to me.”
“The living is in your gift, Sir, but at present I hold it, and as priest of this parish, I refuse to lend my church for the marriage of the guil—er—in fact, for—the marriage.”