"Certainly not," snapped Koltsoff. "Well, then, listen, Prince Koltsoff. You are here now as our guest and we hope to make your sojourn quite pleasant. But," he took a cigar from a box, lighted it, and thrust the box across the table to Koltsoff. "But we might as well have a clear understanding. It will be better in every way. I have felt that Americans have been altogether too willing to subscribe to European customs in marrying off their daughters. I am going to establish a new precedent, if I can. Am I clear?" "What do you mean?" Koltsoff's voice quivered with rising indignation. Mrs. Wellington could not have analyzed her emotions had she tried. All she could do was to sit and watch the tottering of the structure she had reared, under the blows of one who had never before interfered in her plans, but whose word was her law. "I mean that I am unwilling to pay a single red penny for you, or any one else to marry my daughter. If she 's worth anything, she's worth everything. I 'll inform you, however, that she has some money in her own right--not enough to rehabilitate a run-down European estate, but enough to keep the wolf from the door, and, of course, when I get through with it, she 'll share in my estate, which is not inconsiderable." "But Prince Koltsoff is a man of wealth," said Mrs. Wellington quietly. "He is not of the broken-down sort." "Oh, I know all about that," said her husband. "All the more reason why this precedent I am trying to establish should find favor in his eyes." The Prince rose. "I understand you to say that you refuse the dower rights which any European must, of course, expect?" "You do, absolutely. If Anne loves you and wants to marry you, that is her right. She is of age. But no dower. Not a cent." "And you _love_ your daughter!" Koltsoff's voice was withering. Mr. Wellington arose quickly. "That," he said, "we won't discuss." "Very well," Koltsoff's voice arose almost to a shriek. "But listen, I do love Anne Wellington and I think she loves me. And with dower or without it, I 'll marry her. And--and--" he clutched at his throat, "you have heard me. I have spoken. I say no more." And he slammed out of the room. CHAPTER XXI PLAIN SAILOR TALK Miss Hatch had some inkling of the Prince's intention when she ushered him into the Wellington study, and as she met Sara in the hall on the way out of the library, she held a gloomy countenance. "Mrs. Van Valkenberg," she said in response to Sara's bright smile of greeting, "please don't think me impertinent, but--will you, if possible, see that the Prince is not alone with Miss Wellington to-day? And--cannot you prod that terribly sluggish McCall?" Sara looked at the young woman wonderingly for a minute and then held out her hand, laughing. "Miss Hatch, you 're a jewel."