"You young man," said she in her cool, high-bred tones, "you wish
to marry my granddaughter."
Craig was never more afraid nor so impressed in his life. But
there was no upflaming of physical passion here to betray him into
yielding before her as he had before her granddaughter. "I do
not," replied he arrogantly. "Your granddaughter wants to marry
me."
Madam Bowker winced in spite of herself. A very sturdy-appearing
specimen of manhood was this before her; she could understand how
her granddaughter might be physically attracted. But that rude
accent, that common mouth, those uncouth clothes, hand-me-downs or
near it, that cheap look about the collar, about the wrists, about
the ankles--
"We are absolutely unsuited to each other--in every way,"
continued Craig. "I tell her so. But she won't listen to me. The
only reason I've come here is to ask you to take a hand at trying
to bring her to her senses."
The old lady, recovered from her first shock, gazed at him
admiringly. He had completely turned her flank, and by a movement
as swift as it was unexpected. If she opposed the engagement he
could hail her as an ally, could compel her to contribute to her
own granddaughter's public humiliation.
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