“The sooner you and I have a plain talk the better for both of us. It can’t be put off any longer,” Gaston continued with self control. He was looking the General straight in the eyes now, with head and broad shoulders erect and his square-cut jaws were snapping his words with a clean emphasis that was not lost on the older master of men before him. “Call at my office in the morning at ten o’clock.” he said, at length. “I will not do it. I am going home on the nine o’clock train. To-morrow is Christmas day. The issue between us is of life import to me, and it may be of equal importance to you. I will not put it off another hour!” The General glared at him. His hands began to tremble, and raising his voice, he thundered, “I am not accustomed to take orders from young upstarts. How dare you attempt to force yourself into my house when you were told again and again not to attempt it, sir?” “Your former welcome to me on three occasions when the object of my visits was as well known to you as to me, gives me, at least, the vested rights of a final interview. I demand it,” retorted Gaston curtly. “And I refuse it!” Still there was a note of indecision in his voice which Gaston was quick to catch. “General,” he protested, “you are a soldier and a gentleman. You never fought an enemy with uncivilised warfare. Yet you have allowed some one under your protection to stab me in the dark for the past year. I am entitled to know why I fight and against whom. I ask your sense of fairness as a soldier if I am not right?” The General hesitated, and finally said, as he opened the door, “Walk into the parlour.” When they were seated, Gaston plunged immediately into the question he had at heart. “Now, General, I wish to ask you plainly why you have treated me as you have since I asked you for your daughter’s hand?” “The less said about it, the better. I have good and sufficient reasons, and that settles it.” “But I have the right to know them.” “What right?” “The right of every man to face his accuser when on trial for his life.” “Bah! men don’t die nowadays for love, or women either,” the General growled. “Besides,” continued Gaston, “you are under the deepest obligations to tell me fairly your reasons.” “Obligations?” “The obligations of the commonest justice between man and man. You invited me to your home. I was your welcome guest. You encouraged my suit for your daughter’s hand.” “How dare you say such a thing, sir!” “Because she told me you did. I was led to believe that you not only looked with favour on my suit, but that you were pleased with it. I asked for your daughter. You insulted my manhood by refusing me permission even to seek an interview, and know the reasons for your change of views. Since then you have treated me with plain brutality. Now something caused this change.” “Certainly something caused it, something of tremendous importance,” said the General. “I am entitled to know what it is.”