Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared with this young man's resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself in check. "We won't argue the love side of this thing," he said, grimly. "I haven't any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and a pauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of John Barrett's only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control. I'm taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away with her, even if you have stolen her affections." The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of the sneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer passion. "These are wicked insults, sir," said the young man, his face rigid and pale, "but I don't deserve them." "I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her future that you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma'am, down on your plane of life--this is Elva Barrett, of 'Oaklands,' a girl who has temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughter and my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourself out of the way, young man!" The girl's eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love. She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand. "Good-night, Elva." She understood him. His eyes and the quiver in his voice spoke to her heart. She clung to his hands when he would have withdrawn them. The look she gave her father checked that gentleman's contemptuous mutterings. "I am ashamed of my father, Mr. Wade," she said, passionately. "I offer you the apologies of our home." "Say, look here!" snarled Barrett, this scornful rebelliousness putting his wits to flight, "if that's the way you feel about me, put on your hat and go with him. I'll be d--d if I don't mean it! Go and starve." He realized the folly of his outburst as he returned their gaze. But he persisted in his puerile attack. "Oh, you don't want her that way, do you?" he sneered. "You want her to bring the dollars that go along with her!" Then Wade forgot himself. He wrested one hand from the gentle clasp that entreated him, and would have struck the mouth that uttered the wretched insult. The girl prevented an act that would have been an enormity. She caught his wrist, and when his arm relaxed he did not dare, at first, to look at her. Then he gave her one quick stare of horror and looked at his hand, dazed and ashamed. Barrett, strangely enough, was jarred back to equanimity by the threat of that blow. He folded his arms, drew himself up, and stood there, the outraged master of the mansion restored to command, silent, cold, rigid, his whole attitude of indignant reproach more effective than all the curses in Satan's lexicon.