"He promised to marry her," said Sir Appleton. "Prove it," I said. Oh, if only I had been allowed to see the mad old father and challenge him! We should have heard _very_ little more of Miss Molly Wanton. Sir Appleton didn't seem to care whether he could prove it or not... "Oh," he had to admit, "there's no _proof_. But she says so, and I believe her. Most of my life, Lady Ann, I've had to form quick judgements of people and, perhaps three times out of seven, I know when they're speaking the truth. Your son _did_ promise." "He did _not_!," I retorted. "It stands to reason..." And then I tried to _hammer_ a little sense into his head. Two people drawn from different worlds, without an interest in common, without money. All his life she would drag him down and down... How would he like to see a son of _his_ in such a position? ... "He should have thought of that before he began playing the fool," said Sir Appleton. "Before _he_ began playing the fool! A woman knows well enough... And a _clergyman's_ daughter! You want my boy to marry her with his knowledge, _our_ knowledge of her character? You must be mad!" Will said nothing. This quite _unseemly_ altercation, when he was already worn out with the long persecution... I wished, oh! I _wished_ that Arthur had been dining at home; _he_ would never have allowed us to be bullied like this... "Let's take the next thing, then," proposed Sir Appleton. And, do you know, I felt that he was _enjoying_ our agony. "Your son is too fine a gentleman to marry this frail beauty, though he was not so fastidious when there was a question of getting her into trouble." Fine gentlemen and frail beauties! The man was talking like a character in some ridiculous melodrama! "Well, he has rather spoiled her for any other life, so I presume he will gladly pay what compensation he can. Even a court of law would award substantial damages, if she could prove that there had been a promise of marriage." "She can't prove it," I said. "And I'm sure you would not like her to try," he retorted with quite an undisguised threat in his voice. "It would cause an ugly scandal, and you would all gladly pay ten times whatever damages a jury would give her for the sake of hushing up the scandal. Are you prepared to give her enough to go abroad and, if need be, live abroad and make a new life for herself?" "I've no doubt we shall do what we can," I said, "_if_ the story's true--which I don't for one moment admit at present." I was _thankful_ that he no longer suggested that Will should marry her... I'd have promised anything! Though why _he_ should make himself a ruler and a judge... "You will have to provide for her," he said, "at least as generously as if she were marrying your son. She will have no chance of participating in his prosperity and success as he rises from triumph to triumph in his career."