Dunn nor her son appeared ready to answer.
Malcolm fidgeted with his hat and gloves; his mother fanned herself with
her handkerchief. Caroline, frantic with humiliation and shame, would
have protested again, but her guardian's stern shake of the head
silenced her.
"Well, Mr. Dunn," turning to the groom-to-be; "you're one of the
interested parties--what do you say?"
Malcolm ground his heel into the rug. "I don't consider it your
business," he declared. "You're butting in where--"
"No, no, I ain't. It's my business, and business is just WHAT it is.
Your ma knows that. She and I had a real confidential up and down talk
on love and marriage, and she's the one that proved to me that marryin'
in high society, like yours and the kind Caroline's been circulatin' in,
was business and mighty little else. There's a business contract between
you and my niece. We want to know how soon it can be carried out, that's
all."
The young man looked desperately at the door; but the captain's broad
shoulders blocked the way towards it. He hesitated, scowled, and then,
with a shrug of his shoulders, surrendered.
"How can I marry?" he demanded sullenly. "Confound it! my salary isn't
large enough to pay my own way, decently."
"Malcolm!" cried his mother, warningly.
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