"
"And yet in the face of that fact--well, of all things, girls do beat me!
Thank heaven, I have none of my own!" he added testily.
"Girls are better let alone, sir. It is very hard to feel one's self
bound to fulfil a contract of this kind."
"Hard! Well, now, I should think it easy. Mr. Linmere is all that any
reasonable woman could wish. Not too old, nor yet too young; about
forty-five, which is just the age for a man to marry; good-looking,
intelligent and wealthy--what more could you ask?"
"You forgot that I do not love him--that he does not love me."
"Love! tush! Don't let me hear anything about that. I loath the name.
Margie, love ruined my only son! For love he disobeyed me and I disowned
him, I have not spoken his name for years! Your father approved of Mr.
Linmere, and while you were yet a child you were betrothed. And when your
father died, what did you promise him on his deathbed?"
Margie grew white as the ribbons at her throat.
"I promised him that I would _try_ and fulfil his requirements."
"That you would _try_! Yes. And that was equal to giving an unqualified
assent. You know the conditions of the will, I believe?"
"I do. If I marry without your consent under the age of twenty-one, I
forfeit my patrimony.
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