Richmond shook his head impatiently. “Have you or have you not told him you’d not marry him?” “Yes,” replied Beatrice, eyes dancing with the pleasure of teasing him. “Yes--what?” demanded he. “What you said,” replied she. “Beatrice--I insist on a serious answer. Peter came to me and said----” “Oh, papa! Surely, you’re not going over that again. You said it all before.” Richmond paused to frame a question that could be answered only plainly. “Did you tell Peter you would not marry him?” he said sternly, though he had too good a sense of humor not to appreciate her childish cleverness. “I did,” laughed Beatrice, engagingly at her ease. “Can you blame me?” Richmond seated himself on the bench beside her. “You realize the consequences of your refusal?” he said coldly. Her face became sober. The eyes with which she met his gaze were as resolute as his own. “I realize the consequences of _not_ refusing,” said she. “And I’m prepared to take the consequences _of_ refusing.” Richmond’s baffled expression was pushed aside by one of arrogant anger. “What did Peter say to you? I understand this affair. I’ll make that young man writhe for his impudent treachery!” “He pleaded with me to marry him. He refused to release me. He went straight to you----” “You can’t trick me!” cried her father, his expressive eyes sparkling ominously. “Before I get through with this situation I think all concerned will regret having crossed my will. That’s always the way--good nature is mistaken for weakness.” “You may ruin Peter if you feel you can afford to be so contemptible,” said Beatrice unmoved, “and you may ruin Roger Wade--though I doubt if he’ll regard losing a little money as ruin. But you----” “I told you I’d drive him from the country in disgrace!” Through the youth of the girl showed her inheritance of strength of soul, to make a woman of her, a personality a match for his own. “If you bring out anything disgraceful about him that’s true you’ll be only doing what’s right,” said she calmly. “If you try to damage him with falsehood I shall myself tell who’s doing it and why.” A sense of his powerlessness against her silenced him. “You may do your worst, as I was saying,” she went on. “But I shall not marry any man I do not at least respect; I shall not marry any poor, tiresome creature like Hanky. I’ve learned better. I’ve found something with which to contrast life with him. And I cannot and will not do it.”