"Why?" asked her relentless questioner.
"Because it has been arranged."
"Did you arrange it?"
"No, my father arranged it; that's our custom."
"And are you going to let yourself be handed over to an ugly Chinaman you have never seen just because of your father's whim?"
Helen thought the question a little harshly put and opened her mouth to repeat her sister's words more gently, but Elizabeth frowned her into silence. Nancy's face was white, but the girl was still sufficiently mistress of her lips to answer with an even-toned composure:—
"It is our custom, you see—"
"It is not our custom, and you are one of us, Nancy. It is an unthinkable, disgraceful thing! It is bad enough that you should have had all the best years of your life stolen from you because of your father's selfishness in bringing you up like a Chinese, but to be handed over to a greasy mandarin or coolie or whatever he is, that is more than you have any business to allow. You've got to do something to bring the man to his senses."
"My father is my father," said Nancy, a little stiffly.
"You're going too far, Betty," protested Helen, and then turned to Nancy.