"I don't wish to lose my daughter," growled the misanthrope, clutching at his black beard and scowling. "That is very sweet of you, father, but you mustn't sacrifice five hundred a year for my society." "What do you mean by that, you minx?" "Is it so hard to understand?" asked Dorinda coolly. "It's not what a daughter should say to a father." "Well, you see, so much depends upon the sort of father one says it to." "Honor your father and your mother," quoted Mallien, crossly. "Parents, be mindful of your children," retorted the girl. "Oh, I can match you, quotation for quotation, if you like, father; I have been exercising my memory in this respect when talking to Mr. Carrington." "Carrington! Carrington. I forbid you to mention his name. I have already given you my opinion of that impertinent pig----" "Frequently," interpolated Dorinda crisply. "----And I won't allow him to be spoken of. You have just mentioned the reason why I think you should get married straightway." Dorinda set down the marmalade with surprise. "What can Mr. Carrington have to do with our marriage?" she inquired, staring. Mallien wriggled. "Rupert's a fool to bring the fellow down here," he burst out furiously. "He's a sponge, and a son of the horse-leech, who will get all the money he can from Rupert." "I don't see why you should say that," protested the girl. "Mr. Carrington did not give me that impression." "Well, he gave it to me," grumbled her father, eating sullenly; "and if you allow him to get hold of Rupert--who is a fool, as I said before--your marriage will be indefinitely postponed. I won't have it; I won't have it, I tell you," cried the stout little man, jumping up in a fine rage. "If Rupert's money should be given to anyone, it should be given to me." "Well, as soon as I am Rupert's wife, you will have five hundred a year," said Dorinda soothingly. "What's five hundred a year?" said Mallien, contemptuously. "I want the whole four thousand. There's a blue sapphire in Paris I wish to get hold of." Dorinda shrugged her shoulders calmly, being quite used to her father's explosive nature. "You can't expect Rupert to give you all his income," she observed in measured tones. "He is paying a good price for me, seeing that I go to him without a dowry." "You shall have my jewels and my income when I die," growled her father, as he sat down again. "Any money he gives me, comes back to you. But if Rupert was to die----" "Father!" Dorinda uttered a startled cry of pain. "There! There!" snarled Mallien testily. "I don't mean that he is going to die, you silly girl. But he's mortal and _may_ die." "God forbid! But if he did----" she hesitated, then uttered the word faintly, "--die?" "Then I would have The Big House and the four thousand a year," said Mallien brutally. "You seem to forget that we are both descended from John Hendle, who died in the Waterloo year."