hands upraised:

"Don't scold me, Uncle George. I've scolded myself enough--just say
something to help me. I can't give Kate up--I'd sooner die. I've always
made a fool of myself--maybe I'll quit doing it after this. Tell me how
I can straighten this out. She won't see me--maybe her father won't. He
and my father--so Tom Warfield told me yesterday--had a talk at the
club. What they said I don't know, but Mr. Seymour was pretty mad--that
is, for him--so Tom thought from the way he spoke."

"And he ought to be mad--raging mad! He's only got one daughter, and she
the proudest and loveliest thing on earth, and that one he intends to
give to you"--Harry looked up in surprise--"Yes--he told me so. And
here you are breaking her heart before he has announced it to the world.
It's worse than damnable, Harry--it's a CRIME!"

For some minutes he continued his walk, stopping to look out of the
window, his eyes on the mare who, with head up and restless eyes, was on
the watch for her master's return; then he picked up his pipe from the
table, threw himself into his chair again, and broke into one of his
ringing laughs.

"I reckon it's because you're twenty, Harry, I forgot that. Hot
blood--hot temper,--madcap dare-devil that you are--not a grain of
common-sense. But what can you expect?--I was just like you at your age.
Come, now, what shall we do first?"

The young fellow rose and a smile of intense relief crept over his face.
He had had many such overhaulings from his uncle, and always with this
ending. Whenever St. George let out one of those big, spontaneous,