"He is not a fish," with rising anger, "and as for Jean, she'd marry
him if he hadn't a penny, and you know it, Hilda."

Hilda considered that for a moment. Then she said, "Is it his money or
his father's?"

"Belongs to the old man. Derry's mother had nothing but an
irreproachable family tree."

Hilda's long hands were clasped on the desk, her eyes were upon them.
"If he shouldn't like his son's marriage, he might make things
uncomfortable."

"Why shouldn't he like my Jean?"

"He probably will. But there's always the chance that he may not. He
may be more ambitious."

Dr. McKenzie ran his fingers through his crinkled hair. "She's good
enough for--a king."

"You think that, naturally, but he isn't the doting father of an only
daughter."

"If he thinks that my daughter isn't good enough for his son--"

"You needn't shout at me like that," calmly; "but he knows as well as
you do that Derry Drake's millions could get him any girl."

He had a flashing sense of the coarse fiber of Hilda's mental make-up.