“She told you that, did she?” answered the Canon. “Upon my word, we Sprattes _have_ a keen sense of humour.”
Bertram sprang to his feet and crossed over to the Canon.
“You think she cares for carriages and fine clothes. Her life was a mockery. She didn’t know what life was. She had no aspirations, no ideals. Of course she wasted herself on the frivolities of a foolish world. Thank God, she knows now how narrow this little circle is of idle, selfish people. She wants to work, she wants to labour with her fellow-men, shoulder to shoulder, fighting the good fight.”
“And do you think, my dear young man, that it would ever have occurred to Winnie that the world was hollow and foolish, if _you_ had a wart on the tip of your nose, or a squint in your eye? Upon my soul, you’re very unsophisticated.”
“On the contrary, I’m so charitable as to think them merely foolish,” said Canon Spratte, with an acid smile of amusement.
“Have you only sneers for the new life that fills your daughter’s eyes? She’s a different creature now. Oh, I believe in her, thank God, as she believes in me! She’s ready to take the journey with me only by her side. Ah, I know she loves me. You think I’m only a fortune-hunter; we don’t want your money, we shouldn’t know what to do with it.”
“And you’re quite content that for you she should sacrifice everything?”
“She flings away painted husks, dross, tinsel,” cried Bertram, vehemently. “She gains the whole world.”
“Which means you and a villa in Peckham Rye. Upon my soul, you’re very modest.”
Bertram looked at him steadily, thrusting forward his head with a searching air. He turned over in his mind all that the other had said.
“What are you driving at?” he asked, at length. “Why don’t you say it out like a man, instead of beating about the bush?”
“My dear Mr. Railing, I must beg you to observe the conventions of polite society. It is clearly my duty to inquire into the circumstances of any young man who proposes to marry my daughter.”
“I distrusted you when you first agreed to our engagement. I knew you despised me. I knew that all your flattery was humbug. Say it straight out like a man.”
Canon Spratte shrugged his shoulders, and spoke slowly and gravely.
“Mr. Railing, I solemnly ask you to give up my daughter. After mature reflection I have come to the conclusion that the marriage is impossible, and I will never give my consent to it.”