'_Certainly!_' said Purcell, with mocking emphasis. 'Certainly--since she chooses wrong. The only concern of the godly in these matters is to see that their children are not yoked with unbelievers. Whenever I see that young reprobate in the street now, I smell _the pit_. And it'll not be long before the Lord tumbles him into it; there's an end comes to such devil's fry as that. Oh, they may prosper and thrive, they may revile the children of the Lord, they may lift up the hoof against the poor Christian, but the time comes--_the time comes._' His solemnity, at once unctuous and full of vicious meaning, only irritated Dora. But Lucy raised herself from the sofa, and looked suddenly round at her father. Her eyes were streaming, her hair in disorder, but there was a suspicion and intelligence in her look which seemed to give her back self-control. She watched eagerly for what her father might say or do next. As soon as he saw her sitting up he walked over to her and took her again by the shoulder. 'Now look here,' he said to her, holding her tight, 'let's finish with this. That young man's the Lord's enemy--he's my enemy--and I'll teach him a lesson before I've done. But that's neither here nor there. You understand this. If you ever walk out of this door with him, you'll not walk back into it, with him or without him. I'd have done with you, and _my money_'ld have done with you. But there'--and Purcell gave a little scornful laugh, and let her go with a push--'_he_ don't care twopence about you--I'll say that for him.' Lucy flushed fiercely, and getting up began mechanically to smooth her hair before the glass, with wild tremulous movements, will and defiance settling on her lip, as she looked at herself and at the reflection of her father. 'And as for you, Miss Lomax,' said Purcell deliberately, standing opposite Dora, 'you've been aiding and abetting somehow--I don't care how. I don't complain. There was nothing better to be expected of a girl with your parentage and bringing up, and a Puseyite into the bargain. But I warn you you'll go meddling here once too often before you've done. If you'll take my advice you'll let other people's business alone, and _mind your own_. Them that have got Adrian Lomax on their hands needn't go poaching on their neighbours for something to do.' He spoke with a slow, vindictive emphasis, and Dora shrank and quivered as though he had struck her. Then by a great effort--the effort of one who had not gone through a close and tender training of the soul for nothing--she put from her both her anger and her fear. 'You're cruel to father,' she said, her voice fluttering; 'you might be thinking sometimes how straight he's kept since he took the Parlour. And I don't believe young Grieve means any harm to you or anybody--and I'm sure I don't.' A sob rose in her throat. Anybody less crassly armoured in self-love than Purcell must have been touched. As for him, he turned on his heel.