“I don’t seem to be very successful about it.”
“Oh, but you will—you are taking him away!”
Dicky was glad to hear that he was going to get what he came for, but the obstacles still looked serious.
“Isn’t that what you want—to be rid and paid?”
“My father—yes—but me—no, no! He is my lover—oh, such an adored!”
It was new to Cobden’s experience just how obdurate an outraged European can be. M. Ducier reiterated grimly that weeks ago in this house, he had suddenly discovered a condition which destroyed all his past and future. He had forced marriage, but that did not suffice. Dicky turned to the bed at this point.
“How did you happen to stand for marriage, Melton?”
“Nothing to do with it—I was gassed!”
Here the daughter’s cries arose, the hands of the mother were uplifted to heaven, and the face of the father became more grim. It was against Dicky’s training and heredity to stand for being bilked, yet he hesitated to call for help. To start the police at work would mean the American Legation before he was finished, and incredible delay. Momentarily Melton made it harder.
“If you go away and leave me after all they have said,” he moaned, “there won’t be any need for you to come back! I am telling you, Cobden, they keep me here—just as if my legs were tied.”