Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.

"Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn't true? It can't be true?"

The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.

"It's a secret still," she said. "No one knows but Mother. Hartley
doesn't want it announced yet!"

The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.

"By God!" he cried, "it shan't be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who's years older than
you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him! It's
unthinkable ... it's ... it's damnable to think of a gross, ill-bred
creature like Parrish ..."

"Robin!" the girl cried, "you seem to forget that we're staying in his
house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
come and stay with ..."

"I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
I admit one oughtn't to blackguard one's host, but, Mary, you must see
that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!"

The girl began to bridle up,

"Why?" she asked loftily.