"Meaning that you're going to keep up this dilly-dally business whether
I allow you to or not?"

It was a cruel question at that moment. The girl was looking at him with
her heart in her eyes. He had understood her pledge of loyalty given a
moment before. Youth is not philosophic. She would misunderstand
anything except loyalty in return.

"Going to court my daughter, are you, according to the Thornton style of
grabbing anything in sight that they want?"

"Say, look here, Mr. Kavanagh," declared the young man, hotly, "I'm not
going to answer any such questions. But I'm going to tell you something,
and I'm going to tell it to you straight and right here where your
daughter can hear me. I'm not the kind that goes around making love to
any father's daughter behind his back. I've never made love to your
daughter. Why, man she's only a child! And don't you give me any more
sneers about it. That's man to man--understand? And I'm not going to let
you nor my grandfather or any one else break up the innocent friendship
between my little playmate here and myself. Now I hope you'll take that
in the way I mean it. If you don't, it's your fault." He had spoken to
answer the appeal in her eyes.

He had backed his horse away so that he could face Kavanagh on the steps
of the porch. The girl leaped down from the rail, her face alight, and
ran to him and patted his hand.

"By Saint Mike, do you think you'll tell me how to run my house?"
demanded Kavanagh. He came down the steps. "I'll build a coffin for you
and a cage for her before that!"