“How do you propose to get the Duke’s consent?” I asked.
“There is a way to apply pressure to him, Monsieur, which will ... let us say ... induce his consent.”
“You wish to compromise her in her grandfather’s eyes?” I said, fathoming his meaning at last.
“Exactly.”
“But with her consent....”
“Your intuition does you credit.”
“That’s more than your intention does you,” I burst out scornfully.
“I can afford to indulge you in these little pleasantries, my friend,” he returned, with an evil look, “because....”
“Why?” I cried.
“Because I intend that you shall be my agent in the little process.”