"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her free
consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced compliance of a
woman."

"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of marrying her even
should she consent," replied Sir George.

"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but you may
consider them said."

"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George. "You
listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you pretended to
consent without at the time having any intention of doing so."

"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a masterful effort
against anger. "That is true, for I knew that Dorothy would not consent;
and had I been inclined to the marriage, I repeat, I would marry no woman
against her will. No gentleman would do it."

My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.

"I did it, you cur, you dog, you--you traitorous, ungrateful--I did it."

"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no longer able to
restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly poltroon."

"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which to strike
me. Dorothy came between us.

"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood my ground,