“I have already refused,” she replied.
Slowly he grasped her hand, and after a brief pause looked her steadily in the face, saying—
“Liane, you must become his wife.”
“I love but one man, dad, and cannot love another,” she sobbed passionately, her arms still about his neck.
“Forget him.”
She remained silent a few moments; then, at last looking up with calm, inquiring gaze, asked—
“Why are you so earnestly persuading me to marry this man who is neither your true friend nor mine, dad? What object can you have in urging me to do what can only bring me grief and dire unhappiness?”
He made no reply. His face, she noticed, had grown hard and cold; he was entirely unlike himself.
“I love George,” she went on. “I will only marry him.”
“Surely you will not ruin all your future, and mine, for his sake,” he blurted forth at last.