"
"Oh, dear yes; she might have been thrown into a settlement of
savages, and wedded to the first wild Indian that ran to pick her up."
Edward's cheek reddened perceptibly.
"Or she might marry a snob," he said.
"Come, Edward," returned the Commodore, with a breezy laugh, "you must
not insinuate that your old father is such a disagreeable sort of
person. But, seriously, you don't consider Allan Dunlop your equal, do
you?"
"No," said Edward, "I don't think him my equal."
"That's the sensible way to look at it. Not but that he is as good and
necessary in his way as the earth he tills and the vegetables he
sells."
"Oh, it is the father--who, by the way, is an old soldier--that tills
and sells. The son, as you know, is a young rising politician--a
radical."
"I am only too well aware of that, but why couldn't he stick to the
plough? Its the unluckiest business imaginable, Edward, that we should
have played into their hands in this way. They are the last sort of
people to whom one cares to be under a personal obligation."
Edward had no balm to apply to his father's irritation. "When I say
that I don't consider Allan my equal," he explained, "I mean that I
fancy him my superior.
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