“Your daughter, with her natural refinement and delicate habits, is certainly not fit to be married to a foul-mouthed fellow, ignorant, dirty, besotted, and out of place in any company except at the bar in a public house. That is probably your idea of a workman. But the fact of her having consented to marry me is a proof that I do not answer to any such description. As you have hinted, it will be an advantage to me in some ways to have a lady for my wife; but I should have no difficulty in purchasing that advantage, even with my present means, which I expect to increase largely in the course of some years. Do you not underrate your daughter’s personal qualities when you assume that it was her position that induced me to seek her hand?” “I am quite aware of my daughter’s personal advantages. They are additional reasons against her contracting an imprudent marriage.” “Precisely. But in what respect would her marriage with me be imprudent? I possess actual competence, and a prospect of wealth. I come of a long lived and healthy family. My name is, beyond comparison, more widely known than yours. [Mr. Lind recoiled]. I now find myself everywhere treated with a certain degree of consideration, which an alliance with your daughter will not diminish.” “In fact, you are conferring a great honor on my family by condescending to marry into it?” “I dont understand that way of looking at things, Mr. Lind; and so I leave you to settle the question of honor as you please. But you must not condemn me for putting my position in the best possible light in order to reconcile you to an inevitable fact.” “What do you mean by an inevitable fact, sir?” “My marriage, of course. I assure you that it will take place.” “But I shall not permit it to take place. Do you think to ignore me in the matter?” “Practically so. If you give your consent, I shall be glad for the sake of Marian, who will be gratified by it. But if you withhold it, we must dispense with it. By opposing us, you will simply—by making Marian’s home unbearable to her—precipitate the wedding.” Conolly, under the influence of having put the case neatly, here relaxed his manner so far as to rest his elbows on the table and look pleasantly at his visitor. “Do you know to whom you are speaking?” said Mr. Lind, driven by rage and a growing fear of defeat into desperate self-assertion. “I am speaking,” said Conolly with a smile, “to my future father-in-law.” “I am a director of this company, of which you are the servant, as you shall find to your cost if you persist in holding insulting language to me.” “If I found any director of this company allowing other than strictly business considerations to influence him at the Board, I should insist on his resigning.”